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BEYOND   THE    GATES. 


ELIZABETH  STUAKT  PHELPS, 

ADTHOB  OP  "  THE  GATES  AJAR,"  "  THE  STORY  OP  AVIS,"  ETC.,  EIO. 


Sixteenth   Thousand. 


mm: 


BOSTON: 

HOUGHTON,   MIFFLIN  AND    COMPANY 

New  York:   11  East  Seventeenth  Street. 

1884. 


Copyright,  1883, 
By  ELIZABETH  STUART  PHELPS. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge: 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  0.  Houghton  and  Company. 


TO  MY  BROTHER, 

STUART, 

WHO  PASSED  BEYOND,  AUGUST  29,  1883. 


I^OTE. 


It  should  be  said,  that,  at  the  time  of  the 
departure  of  him  to  whose  memory  this  little 
book  is  consecrated,  the  work  was  already  in 
press ;  and  that  these  pages  owe  more  to  his 
criticism  than  can  be  acknowledged  here. 

E.  S.  P. 

Gloucester,  Massachusetts, 
September,  1S83. 


beyojS'd  the  gates. 


I. 

I  HAD  been  ill  for  several  weeks  with  what 
they  called  brain  fever.  The  events  which  I 
am  about  to  relate  happened  on  the  fifteenth 
day  of  my  illness. 

Before  beginning  to  tell  my  story,  it  may 
not  be  out  of  place  to  say  a  few  words  about 
myself,  in  order  to  clarify  to  the  imagination 
of  the  reader  points  which  would  otherwise  in- 
volve niunerous  explanatory  digressions,  more 
than  commonly  misplaced  in  a  tale  dealing 
with  the  materials  of  this. 

I  am  a  woman  forty  years  of  age.  My 
father  was  a  clergyman ;  he  had  been  many 
years  dead.  I  was  living,  at  the  time  I  refer 
to,  in  my  mother's  house  in  a  factory  town  in 
Massachusetts.     The  town  need  not  be  more 


6  BEYOND    THE   GATES. 

particularly  mentioned,  nor  genuine  family 
names  given,  for  obvious  reasons.  I  was  the 
oldest  of  four  children ;  one  of  my  sisters  was 
married,  one  was  at  home  with  us,  and  there 
was  a  boy  at  college. 

I  was  an  unmarried,  but  not  an  unhappy 
woman.  I  had  reached  a  very  busy,  and  some- 
times I  hoped  a  not  altogether  valueless,  mid- 
dle age.  I  had  used  life  and  loved  it.  Be- 
yond the  idle  impulse  of  a  weary  moment, 
which  signifies  no  more  than  the  reflex  action 
of  a  mental  muscle,  and  which  I  had  been  in 
the  habit  of  rating  accordingly,  I  had  never 
wished  to  die.  I  was  well,  vigorous,  and  ac- 
tive. I  was  not  of  a  dependent  or  a  despon- 
dent temperament. 

I  am  not  writing  an  autobiography,  and 
these  things,  not  of  importance  in  themselves, 
require  only  the  briefest  allusion.  They  will 
serve  to  explain  the  general  cast  of  my  life^ 
which  in  turn  may  define  the  features  of  my 
story. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  solitary :  he  who  is 
drawn  by  the  inward,  and  he  who  chooses  the 


BEYOND    THE   GATES.  7 

outward  life.  To  this  latter  class  I  had  be- 
longed. Circumstances,  which  it  is  not  neces- 
sary to  detail  here,  had  thrust  me  into  the  one 
as  a  means  of  self-preservation  from  the  other, 
while  I  was  yet  quite  young. 

I  had  been  occupied  more  largely  with  the 
experiences  of  other  people  than  with  my  own. 
I  had  been  in  the  habit  of  being  depended 
upon.  It  had  been  my  great  good  fortune  to 
be  able  to  spend  a  part  of  my  time  among  the 
sick,  the  miserable,  and  the  poor.  It  had  been, 
perhaps,  my  better  chance  to  be  obliged  to 
balance  the  emotional  perils  of  such  occupa- 
tions by  those  of  a  different  character.  My 
business  was  that  of  a  school-teacher,  but  I  had 
traveled  somewhat ;  I  had  served  as  a  nurse 
during  the  latter  years  of  the  war  ;  in  the  San- 
itary Commission ;  upon  the  Freedmen's  Bu- 
reau ;  as  an  officer  in  a  Woman's  Prison,  and 
had  done  a  little  work  for  the  State  Bureau  of 
Labor  among  the  factory  operatives  of  our 
own  town.  I  had  therefore,  it  will  be  seen, 
been  spared  the  deterioi-ation  cf  a  monotonous 
existence.     At  the  time  I  vvao  taken  ill  I  was 


8  BEYOND    THE   GATES. 

managing  a  private  school,  rather  large  for  the 
corps  of  assistants  which  I  could  command, 
and  had  overworked.  I  had  been  at  home, 
thus  employed,  with  my  mother  who  needed 
me,  for  two  years. 

It  may  not  be  unsuitable,  before  proceeding 
with  my  narrative,  to  say  that  I  had  been  a 
believer  in  the  truths  of  the  Christian  religion ; 
not,  however,  a  devotee.  I  had  not  the  ecstatic 
temperament,  and  was  not  known  among  my 
friends  for  any  higher  order  of  piety  than  that 
which  is  implied  in  trying  to  do  one's  duty 
for  Christ's  sake,  and  saying  little  about  it 
or  Him,  —  less  than  I  wish  I  had  sometimes. 
It  was  natural  to  me  to  speak  in  other  ways 
than  by  words  ;  that  does  not  prove  that  it 
was  best.  I  had  read  a  little,  like  all  think- 
ing people  with  any  intellectual  margin  to 
their  lives,  of  the  religious*  controversies  of 
the  day,  and  had  not  been  without  my  share 
of  pressure  from  the  fashionable  reluctance 
to  believe.  Possibly  this  had  affected  a  tem- 
perament not  too  much  inclined  towards  the 
supernatural,  but  it  had  never  conquered  my 


BEYOND   THE   GATES.  9 

faith,  which  I  think  had  growu  to  be  dearer  to 
me  because  I  had  not  kept  it  without  a  fight 
for  it.  It  certainly  had  become,  for  this  rea- 
son, of  greater  practical  value.  It  certainly 
had  become,  for  this  and  every  reason,  the 
most  valuable  thing  I  had,  or  hoped  to  have. 
I  believed  in  God  and  immortality,  and  in 
the  history  of  Jesus  Christ.  I  respected  and 
practiced  prayer,  but  chiefly  decided  what  I 
ought  to  do  next  minute.  I  loved  life  and 
lived  it.  I  neither  feai-ed  death  nor  thought 
much  about  it. 

When  I  had  been  ill  a  fortnight,  it  occurred 
to  me  that  I  was  very  sick,  but  not  that  I  could 
possibly  die.  I  suffered  a  good  deal  at  first ; 
after  that  much  less.  There  was  great  misery 
for  lack  of  sleep,  and  intolerable  restlessness. 
The  worst,  however,  was  the  continuity  of  care. 
Those  who  have  borne  heavy  responsibilities 
for  any  length  of  time  wUl  understand  me. 
The  incessant  burden  pressed  on  :  now  a  pupil 
had  fallen  into  some  disgracefid  escapade ;  now 
the  investments  of  mv  mother's,  of  whicli  I  had 


10  BEYOND    THE  GATES. 

the  charge,  had  failed  on  the  dividends  ;  then 
I  had  no  remittance  for  the  boy  at  college  ; 
then  my  sister,  in  a  heart-breaking  emergency, 
confided  to  me  a  peril  against  which  I  could 
not  lift  a  finger ;  the  Governor  held  me  re- 
sponsible for  the  typhoid  among  the  prisoners ; 
I  added  eternal  columns  of  statistics  for  tho 
Charity  Boards,  and  found  forever  a  mistake 
in  each  report ;  a  dying  soldier  called  to  me  in 
piercing  tones  for  a  cup  of  water;  the  black 
girl  to  whom  I  read  the  Gospel  of  John, 
drowned  her  baby  ;  I  ran  six  looms  in  the  mill 
for  the  mother  of  six  children  till  her  seventh 
should  be  born  ;  I  staked  the  salvation  of  ray 
soul  upon  answering  the  argument  of  Strauss 
to  the  satisfaction  of  an  unbelieving  friend, 
and  lost  my  wager ;  I  heard  my  classes  in 
Logic,  and  was  unable  to  repeat  anything  but 
the  "  Walrus  and  the  Carpenter,"  for  the 
"  Barbara  Celarent."  Suddenly,  one  day,  in 
the  thick  of  this  brain-battle,  I  slipped  upon  a 
pause,  in  which  I  distinctly  heard  a  low  voice 
say, 

"  But  Tliiue  eternal  thoughts  move  on, 
Thine  undisturbed  affairs." 


BEYOND    TEE  GATES.  11 

It  was  my  mother's  voice.  I  perceived  then 
that  she  sat  at  my  bedside  in  the  red  easy- 
chair,  repeating  hymns,  poor  soul !  in  the  hope 
of  calming  me. 

I  put  out  ray  hand  and  patted  her  arm,  but 
it  did  not  occur  to  me  to  speak  till  I  saw  that 
there  were  masses  of  pansies  and  some  mignon- 
ette upon  the  table,  and  I  asked  who  sent 
them,  and  she  told  me  the  school-girls  had 
kept  them  fresh  there  every  day  since  I  was 
taken  ill.  I  felt  some  pleasure  that  they 
should  take  the  trouble  to  select  the  flowers  I 
preferred.  Then  I  asked  her  where  the  jelly 
came  from,  and  the  gTapes,  and  about  other 
trifles  that  T  saw,  such  as  accumulate  in  any 
si.tk  room.  Then  she  gave  me  the  names  of 
different  friends  and  ueiglibjrs  who  had  been 
so  good  as  to  remember  me.  Chiefly  I  was 
touched  by  the  sight  of  a  straggly  magenta 
geranium  which  I  noticed  growing  in  a  pot  by 
the  window,  and  which  a  poor  woman  from 
the  mills  had  brought  the  day  before.  I  asked 
my  mother  if  there  were  any 'letters,  and  she 
said,  mauy,  but   that    I    must  not   hear  them 


12  Bfn'OND    THE   GATES. 

read ;  slie  spoke  of  soma  from  the  prison. 
The  door -bell  often  rang  softly,  and  I  asked 
why  it  was  muffled,  and  who  called.  Alice 
had  come  in,  and  said  something  in  an  under- 
tone to  mother  about  the  Grand  Army  and 
resolutions  and  sympathy ;  and  she  used  the 
names  of  different  people  I  had  almost  for- 
gotten, and  this  confused  me.  They  stopped 
talking,  and  I  became  at  once  very  ill  again. 

The  next  point  which  I  recall  is  turning  to 
see  that  the  doctor  was  in  the  room.  I  was 
in  great  suffering,  and  he  gave  me  a  few  spoon- 
fuls of  something  which  he  said  would  secure 
sleep.  I  desired  to  ask  him  what  it  was,  as  I 
objected  to  narcotics,  and  preferred  to  bear 
whatever  was  before  me  with  the  eyes  of  my 
mind  open,  but  as  soon  as  I  tried  to  speak  I 
forgot  what  I  wished  to  say. 

I  do  not  know  how  long  it  was  before  the 
truth  approached  me,  but  it  was  towards  even- 
ing of  that  day,  the  fifteenth,  as  I  saj^  of  my 
illness,  that  I  said  aloud  : 

"  Mother,  Tom  is  in  the  room.  Why  hag 
Tom  come  home  ?  " 


BEYOND   THE    GATES.  13 

Tom  was  my  little  brother  at  college.  He 
came  towards  the  bed  as  I  spoke.  He  had  his 
hat  in  liis  hand,  and  he  put  it  up  before  his 
eyes. 

"  Mother  !  "  I  repeated  louder  than  before. 
"  Why  have  you  sent  for  Tom  ?  '•' 

But  Mother  did  not  answer  me.  She  leaned 
over  me.  I  saw  her  looking  down.  She  had 
the  look  that  she  had  when  my  father  died  ; 
though  I  was  so  young  when  that  happened, 
I  had  never  forgotten  my  mother's  look ;  and 
I  had  never  seen  it  since,  from  that  day  until 
this  hour. 

"  Mother !  am  I  so  sick  as  that  ?  Mother  !  " 

"  Oh,  my  dear !  "  cried  Mother.  "  Oh  my 
dear,  my  dear !  "    .    .    . 

So  after  that  I  understood.  I  was  greatly 
startled  that  they  should  feel  me  to  be  danger- 
ously ill ;  but  I  was  not  alarmed. 

"  It  is  nonsense,"  I  said,  after  I  had  thought 
about  it  a  little  while.  "  Dr.  Shadow  was  al- 
ways a  croaker.  I  have  no  idea  of  dying  !  I 
have  nursed  too  many  sicker  people  than  I  am. 
I  don't  intend  to  die !  I  am  able  to  sit  up 
now,  if  I  want  to.     Let  me  try." 


14  BF.YOND    THE  GATES. 

"  I  '11  hold  you,"  said  Tom,  softly  enough. 
This  pleased  me.  He  lifted  all  the  pillows, 
and  held  me  straight  out  upon  his  mighty  arms. 
Tom  was  a  great  athlete — took  the  prizes  at  the 
gymnasium.  No  weaker  man  could  have  sup- 
ported me  for  fifteen  minutes  in  the  strained 
position  by  which  he  found  that  he  30uld  give 
me  comfort  and  so  gratify  my  whim.  Tom  held 
me  a  long  time  ;  I  think  it  must  have  been  an 
hour ;  but  I  began  to  suffer  again,  and  could 
not  judge  of  time.  I  wondered  how  that  big 
boy  got  such  infinite  tenderness  into  those  iron 
muscles.  I  felt  a  great  respect  for  human  flesh 
and  bone  and  blood,  and  for  the  power  and 
preciousness  of  the  living  human  body.  It 
seemed  much  more  real  to  me,  then,  than  thtf 
spirit.  It  seemed  an  absurdity  that  any  one 
should  suppose  that  I  was  in  danger  of  being 
done  with  life.     I  said  :  — 

"  I  'm  going  to  live,  Tom !  Tell  Mother  I 
have  no  idea  of  dying.     I  prefer  to  live." 

Tom  nodded ;  he  did  not  speak  ;  I  felt  a  hot 
dash  of  tears  on  my  face,  which  surprised  me  ; 
I  had  not  seen  Tom  cry  sinoe  he  lost  the  foot- 
ball match  when  he  was  eleven  years  old. 


BEYOND   THE  GATE 3.  15 

They  gave  me  something  more  out  of  the 
spoon,  again,  1  think,  at  that  moment,  and  I 
felt  better.     I  said  to  Tom  :  — 

"  You  see !  "  and  bade  them  send  Mother  to 
lie  down,  and  asked  Alice  to  make  her  beef-tea, 
and  to  be  sure  and  make  it  as  we  did  in  the 
army.  I  do  not  remember  saying  anything 
more  after  this.  I  certainly  did  not  suffer  any 
more.  I  felt  quiet  and  assured.  Nothing 
farther  troubled  me.  .  The  room  became  so  still 
that  I  thought  they  must  all  have  gone  away, 
and  left  me  with  the  nurse,  and  that  she,  find- 
ing me  so  well,  had  herself  fallen  ask  jp.  This 
rested  me  — to  feel  that  I  was  no  longer  caus- 
ing them  pain  —  more  than  anything  could 
have  done  ;  and  I  began  to  think  the  best  thing 
I  could  do  would  be  to  take  a  nap  myself. 

With  this  conviction  quietly  in  mind  I  turned 
over,  with  my  face  towards  the  wall,  to  go  to 
sleep.  I  grew  cahner,  and  yet  more  calm,  as  I 
lay  there.  There  was  a  cross  of  Swiss  carving 
on  the  wall,  hanging  over  a  picture  of  my  fa- 
ther. Leonardo's  Christ  —  the  one  from  the 
drawing  for  the  Last  Supper,  that  we  all  know 


16  BEYOND    THE  GATES. 

—  hung  above  both  these.  Owing  to  my  posi- 
tion, I  could  not  see  the  other  pictures  in  the 
room,  which  was  large,  and  filled  with  little 
things,  the  gifts  of  those  who  had  been  kind  to 
me' in  a  life  of  many  busy  years.  Only  these 
three  objects  —  the  cross,  the  Christ,  and  my 
father  —  came  within  range  of  my  eyes  as  the 
power  of  sleep  advanced.  The  room  was  dark- 
ened, as  it  had  been  since  I  became  so  ill,  so 
that  I  was  not  sure  whether  it  were  night  or 
day.  The  clock  was  striking.  I  think  it 
struck  two ;  and  I  perceived  the  odor  of  the 
mignonette.  I  think  it  was  the  last  thing  I 
noticed  before  going  to  sleep,  and  I  remem- 
bered, as  I  did  so,  the  theories  which  gave  to 
the  sense  of  smell  greater  significance  than 
any  of  the  rest ;  and  remembered  to  have  read 
that  it  was  either  the  last  or  the  first  to  give 
way  in  the  dying.  (I  could  not  recall,  in  my 
confused  condition,  which.)  I  thought  of  this 
with  pleased  and  idle  interest ;  but  did  not  as- 
sociate the  thought  with  the  alarm  felt  by  my 
friends  about  my  condition. 

I  could  have  slept  but  a  short  time  when  I 


BEYOND    THE   GATES.  17 

woke,  feeling  much  easier.  The  cross,  the 
Christ,  and  the  picture  of  my  father  looked  at 
me  calmly  from  the  wall  on  which  the  sick- 
lamp  cast  a  steady,  soft  light.  Then  I  remem- 
bered that  it  was  night,  of  course,  and  felt 
chagrined  that  I  could  have  been  confused  on 
this  point. 

The  room  seemed  close  to  me,  and  I  turned 
over  to  ask  for  more  air. 

As  I  did  so,  I  saw  some  one  sitting  in  the 
cushioned  window-seat  by  the  open  window  — 
the  eastern  window.  No  one  had  occupied  this 
seat,  on  account  of  the  draught  and  chill,  since 
my  illness.  As  I  looked  steadily,  I  saw  that 
the  person  who  sat  there  was  my  father. 

His  face  was  turned  away,  but  his  figure  and 
the  contour  of  his  noble  head  were  not  to  be 
mistaken.  Although  I  was  a  mere  girl  when 
he  died,  I  felt  no  hesitation  about  this.  I  knew 
at  once,  and  beyond  all  doubt,  that  it  was  he. 
I  experienced  pleasure,  but  little,  if  any,  sur- 
prise. 

As  I  lay  there  looking  at  him,  he  turned  and 
regarded  me.  His  deep  eyes  glowed  with  a 
2 


18  BEYOND  THE  GATES. 

soft,  calm  light ;  but  yet,  I  know  not  why,  they 
expressed  more  love  than  I  had  ever  seen  in 
them  before.  He  used  to  love  us  nervously  and 
passionately.  He  had  now  the  look  of  one 
whose  whole  nature  is  saturated  with  rest,  and 
to  whom  the  fitfulness,  distrust,  or  distress  of 
intense  feeling  acting  upon  a  super-sensitive 
organization,  were  impossible.  As  he  looked 
towards  me,  he  smiled.  He  had  one  of  the 
sweetest  smiles  that  ever  illuminated  a  mortal 
face.' 

"  Why,  Father !  "  I  said  aloud.  He  nodded 
encouragingly,  but  did  not  sj)eak. 

"  Father  ?  "  I  repeated,  "  Father,  is  this 
you  ?  "  He  laughed  a  little,  softly,  putting 
up  one  hand  and  tossing  his  hair  off  from  his 
forehead  —  an  old  way  of  his. 

"  What  are  you  here  for  ?  "  I  asked  again. 
"  Did  Mother  send  for  you,  too  ?  " 

When  I  had  said  this,  I  felt  confused  and 
troubled ;  for  though  I  did  not  remember 
that  he  was  dead  —  I  mean  I  did  not  put  the 
thought  in  any  such  form  to  myself,  or  use 
that  word  or  any  of  its  synonyms  —  yet  I  re- 


BEYOND    THE  GATES.  19 

membered  that  he  had  been  absent  from  our 
family  circle  for  a  good  whUe,  and  that  if 
Mother  had  sent  for  him  because  I  had  a  brain 
fever,  it  would  have  been  for  some  reason  not 
according  to  her  habit. 

"  It  is  strange,"  I  said.  "  It  is  n't  like  her. 
I  don't  understand  the  thing  at  all." 

Now,  as  I  continued  to  look  at  the  comer  of 
the  room  where  my  father  was  sitting,  I  saw 
that  he  had  risen  from  the  cushioned  window- 
seat,  and  taken  a  step  or  two  towards  me.  He 
stopped,  however,  and  stood  quite  still,  and 
looked  at  me  most  lovingly  and  longingly  ;  and 
then  it  was  that  he  held  out  his  arms  to  me. 

"  Oh,"  cried  I,  "  I  wish  I  could  come !  But 
you  don't  know  how  sick  I  am.  I  have  not 
walked  a  step  for  over  two  weeks." 

He  did  not  speak  even  yet,  but  still  held 
out  his  arms  with  that  look  of  unutterably 
restful  love.  I  felt  the  elemental  tie  between 
parent  and  child  draw  me.  It  seemed  to  me 
as  if  I  had  reached  the  foundation  of  all  human 
feeling ;  as  if  I  had  gone  down  —  how  shall  I 
say  it  ?  —  below  the  depths  of  all  other  love. 


20  BEYOND    THE  GATES. 

I  had  always  known  I  loved  him,  but  not  like 
that.     I  was  greatly  moved. 

"  But  you  don't  understand  me,"  I  repeated 
with  some  agitation.  "  I  can't  walk."  I 
thought  it  very  strange  that  he  did  not,  in 
consideration  of  my  feebleness,  come  to  me. 

Then  for  the  first  time  he  spoke. 

"  Come,"  he  said  gently.  His  voice  sounded 
quite  natural ;  I  only  noticed  that  he  spoke 
under  his  breath,  as  if  not  to  awake  the  nurse, 
or  any  person  who  was  in  the  room. 

At  this,  I  moved,  and  sat  up  on  the  edge  of 
my  bed ;  although  I  did  so  easily  enough,  I 
lost  courage  at  that  point.  It  seemed  impos- 
sible to  go  farther.  T  felt  a  little  chilly,  and 
remembered,  too,  that  I  was  not  dressed.  A 
warm  white  woolen  wrapper  of  my  own,  and 
my  slippers,  were  within  reach,  by  the  head  of 
the  bed ;  Alice  wore  them  when  she  watched 
with  me.  I  put  these  things  on,  and  then 
paused,  expecting  to  be  overcome  with  ex- 
haustion after  the  effort.  To  my  surprise,  I 
did  not  feel  tired  at  all.  I  believe,  rather,  I  felt 
a  little  stronger.     As  I  put  the  clothes  on,  I 


BEYOND   THE  GATES.  21 

noticed  the  magenta  geranium  across  the  room. 
These,  I  think,  were  the  only  tilings  which  at- 
tracted my  attention. 

"Come  here  to  me,"  repeated  Father;  he 
spoke  more  decidedly,  tliis  time  with  a  touch  of 
authority.  I  remembered  hearing  him  speak 
just  so  when  Tom  was  learning  to  walk ;  he 
began  by  saying,  "  Come,  sonny  boy !  "  but 
when  the  baby  played  the  coward,  he  said, 
"  My  son,  come  here !  " 

As  if  I  had  been  a  baby,  I  obeyed.  I  put 
my  feet  to  the  floor,  and  found  that  I  stood 
strongly.  I  experienced  a  slight  giddiness  for 
a  moment,  but  when  this  passed,  my  head  felt 
clearer  than  before.  I  \valked  steadily  out 
into  the  middle  of  the  room.  Each  step  was 
firmer  than  the  other.  As  I  advanced,  he 
came  to  meet  me.  My  heart  throbbed.  I 
thought  I  should  have  fallen,  not  from  weak- 
ness, but  from  joy. 

"  Don't  be  afraid,"  he  said  encouragingly ; 
"  that  is  right.  You  are  doing  finely.  Only 
a  few  steps  more.     There  !  " 

It  was  done.     I  had  crossed   the  distance 


22  BFYOND    THE   GATES. 

which  separated  us,  and  my  dear  Father,  after 
all  those  years,  took  me,  as  he  used  to  do,  into 
his  arms.  .  .  . 

He  was  the  first  to  speak,  and  he  said :  — 

"  You  poor  little  girl !  —  But  it  is  over 
now." 

"  Yes,  it  is  over  now,"  I  answered.  I 
thought  he  referred  to  the  difficult  walk  across 
the  room,  and  to  my  long  illness,  now  so  hap- 
pily at  an  end.  He  smiled  and  patted  me  on 
the  cheek,  but  made  no  other  answer. 

"  I  must  tell  Mother  that  you  are  here,"  I 
said  presently.  I  had  not  looked  behind  me 
or  about  me.  Since  the  first  sight  of  my 
father  sitting  in  the  window,  I  had  not  ob- 
served any  other  person,  and  could  not  have 
told  who  was  in  the  room. 

"Not  yet,"  my  father  said.  "We  may  not 
speak  to  her  at  present.  I  think  we  had  bet- 
ter go." 

I  lifted  my  face  to  say,  "Go  where?"  but 
my  lips  did  not  form  the  question.  It  was 
just  as  it  used  to  be  when  he  came  from  the 
study  and  held  out  his  hand,  and  said  "  Come," 


BEYOND    THE  GATES.  23 

and  I  went  anywhere  with  him,  neither  asking, 
nor  caring,  so  long  as  it  was  with  him ;  and 
then  he  used  to  play  or  walk  with  me,  and  I 
forgot  the  whole  world  besides.  I  put  my 
hand  in  his  without  a  question,  and  we  moved 
towards  the  door. 

"  I  suppose  you  had  better  go  this  waj"  he 
said,  with  a  slight  hesitation,  as  we  passed  out 
and  across  the  hall. 

"  Any  way  you  like  best,"  I  said  joyfully. 
He  smiled,  and  still  keeping  my  hand,  led  me 
down  the  stairs.  As  we  went  down,  I  heard 
the  little  Swiss  clock,  above  in  my  room,  strike 
the  half  hour  after  two. 

I  noticed  everything  in  the  hall  as  we  de- 
scended ;  it  was  as  if  my  vision,  as  well  as  the 
muscles  of  motion,  grew  stronger  with  each  mo- 
ment. ■  I  saw  the  stair-carpeting  with  its  faded 
Brussels  pattern,  once  rich,  and  remembered 
counting  the  red  roses  on  it  the  night  I  went 
up  with  the  fever  on  me  ;  reeling  and  half  de- 
lirious, wondering  how  I  could  possibly  aiford 
to  be  sick.  I  saw  the  hat-tree  with  Tom's  coat, 
and  Alice's  blue  Shetland  shawl  across  the  old 


24  BEYOND    THE   GATES. 

hair-clotli  sofa.  As  we  opened  the  door,  I  saw 
the  muffled  bell.  I  stood  for  a  moment  upon 
the  threshold  of  my  old  home,  not  afraid  but 
perplexed. 

My  father  seemed  to  understand  my 
thoughts  perfectly,  though  I  had  not  spoken, 
and  he  paused  for  my  reluctant  mood.  I 
thought  of  all  the  years  I  had  spent  there.  I 
thought  of  my  childhood  and  girlhood ;  of  the 
tempestuous  periods  of  life  which  that  quiet 
roof  had  hidden ;  of  the  calms  upon  which  it 
had  brooded.  I  thought  of  sorrows  that  I  had 
forgotten,  and  those  which  I  had  prayed  in 
vain  to  forget.  I  thought  of  temptations  and 
of  mistakes  and  of  sins,  from  which  I  had  fled 
back  asking  these  four  walls  to  shelter  me.  I 
thought  of  the  comfort  and  blessedness  that 
I  had  never  failed  to  find  in  the  old  house.  I 
shrank  from  leaAang  it.  It  seemed  like  leav- 
ing my  body. 

When  the  door  had  been  opened,  the  night 
air  rushed  in.  I  could  see  the  stars,  and 
knew,  rather  than  felt,  that  it  was  cold.  As 
we  stood  waiting,  an  icicle  dropped  from  the 


BEYOND   THE  GATES.  25 

eaves,  and  fell,  breaking  into  a  dozen  diamond 
flashes  at  oiu-  feet.     Beyond,  it  was  dark. 

"  It  seems  to  me  a  great  exposure,"  I  said 
reluctantly,  "to  be  taken  out  into  a  winter 
night, — at  such  an  hour,  too !  I  have  been  so 
very  sick." 

"Are  you  cold?"  asked  my  father  gently. 
After  some  thought  I  said :  — 

"  No,  sir." 

For  I  was  not  cold.  For  the  first  time  I 
wondered  why. 

"  Are  you  tired  ?  " 

No,  I  was  not  tired. 

"  Are  you  afraid  ?  " 

"  A  little,  I  think,  sir." 
■     "  Would  you  like  to  go  back,  Molly,  and 
rest  awhile  ?  " 

"  If  you  please.  Papa." 

The  old  baby-word  came  instinctively  in 
answer  to  the  baby-name.  He  led  me  like  a 
child,  and  like  a  child  I  submitted.  It  was 
like  him  to  be  so  thoughtful  of  my  weakness. 
My  dear  father  was  always  one  of  those  rare 
men  who  think  of  little  things  largely,  and  so 


26  BEYOND    THE  GATES. 

bring,  especially  into  the  lives  of  women,  the 
daily  comfort  \vhich  makes  the  infinite  pre- 
ciousness  of  life. 

We  went  into  the  parlor  and  sat  down.  It 
was  warm  there  and  pleasant.  The  furnace 
was  well  on,  and  embers  still  in  the  grate. 
The  lamps  were  not  lighted,  yet  the  room  was 
not  dark.  I  enjoyed  being  down  there  again 
after  all  those  weeks  np-stairs,  and  was  happy 
in  looking  at  the  familiar  things,  the  afghan 
on  the  sofa,  and  the  magazines  on  the  table, 
uncut  because  of  my  illness ;  Mother's  work- 
basket,  and  Alice's  music  folded  away. 

"It  was  always  a  dear  old  room,"  said 
Father,  seating  himseH  in  his  own  chair,  which 
we  had  kept  for  twenty  years  in  its  old  place.' 
He  put  his  head  back,  and  gazed  peacefully 
about. 

When  I  felt  rested,  and  better,  I  asked  him 
If  we  should  start  now. 

"Just  as  you  please,"  he  said  quietly. 
"  There  is  no  hurry.     We  are  never  hurried." 

"  If  we  have  anything  to  do,"  I  said,  "  I  had 
rather  do  it  now  I  think." 


BEYOND    THK  GATES.  27 

"Very  well,"  said  Father  "that  is  like  you." 
He  rose  and  held  out  his  hand  again.  I  took 
it  once  more,  and  once  more  we  went  out  to 
the  threshold  of  our  old  home.  This  time  I 
felt  more  confidence,  but  when  the  night  air 
swept  in,  I  could  not  help  shrinking  a  little 
in  spite  of  myself,  and  showing  the  agitation 
which  overtook  me. 

"  Father !  "  I  cried,  "  Father !  where  are  we 
going  r 

My  father  turned  at  this,  and  looked  at  me 
solemnly.  His  face  seemed  to  shine  and  glow. 
He  looked  from  what  I  felt  was  a  great  height. 
He  said :  — 

"  Are  you  really  afraid,  Mary,  to  go  any- 
where with  me  ?  " 

"  No,  no ! "  I  protested  in  a  passion  of  regret 
and  trust,  "  my  dear  father !  I  would  go  any 
where  in  earth  or  Heaven  with  you !  " 

"  Then  come,"  he  said  softly. 

I  clasped  both  hands,  interlocking  them 
through  his  arm,  and  we  shut  the  door  and 
went  down  the  steps  together  and  out  into  the 
winter  dawn. 


II. 

It  was  neither  dark  nor  day;  and  as  we 
stepped  into  the  village  streets  the  confused 
light  trembled  about  us  delicately.  The  stars 
were  still  shining.  Snow  was  on  the  ground ; 
and  I  think  it  had  freshly  fallen  in  the  night, 
for  I  noticed  that  the  way  before  us  lay  quite 
white  and  untrodden.  I  looked  back  over  my 
shoulders  as  ray  father  closed  the  gate,  which 
he  did  without  noise.  I  meant  to  take  a  gaze 
at  the  old  house,  from  which,  with  a  thrill  at 
the  heart,  I  began  to  feel  that  I  was  parting 
under  strange  and  solemn  conditions.  But 
when  I  glanced  up  the  path  which  we  had 
taken,  my  attention  was  directed  altogether 
from  the  house,  and  from  the  slight  sadness  of 
the  thought  I  had  about  it. 

The  circumstance  which  arrested  me  was 
this.  Neither  my  father's  foot  nor  mine  had 
left  any  print  upon  the  walk.     From  the  front 


BEYOND    THE  GATES.  29 

door  to  the  street,  the  fine  fair  snow  lay  un- 
broken ;  it  stirred,  and  rose  in  restless  flakes 
like  winged  creatures  under  the  gentle  wind, 
flew  a  little  way,  and  fell  again,  covering  the 
surface  of  the  long  white  path  with  a  foam  so 
light,  it  seemed  as  if  thought  itself  could  not 
have  passed  upon  it  without  impression.  I  can 
hardly  say  why  I  did  not  call  my  father's  at- 
tention to  this  fact. 

As  we  walked  down  the  road  the  dawn  be- 
gan to  deepen.  The  stars  paled  slowly.  The 
intense  blue-black  and  purple  of  the  night 
sky  gave  way  to  the  warm  grays  that  precede 
sunrise  in  our  climate.  I  saw  that  the  gold 
and  the  rose  were  coming.  It  promised  to  be 
a  mild  morning,  warmer  than  for  several  days. 
The  deadly  chill  was  out  of  the  air.  The  snow 
yielded  on  the  outlines  of  the  drifts,  and  re- 
laxed as  one  looked  at  it,  as  snow  does  before 
melting,  and  the  icicles  had  an  air  of  expecta- 
tion, as  if  they  hastened  to  surrender  to  the 
annunciation  of  a  warm  and  impatient  win- 
ter's day. 

"  It  is  going  to  thaw,"  I  said  aloud. 


30  BEYOND   THE   GATES. 

"  It  seems  so  to  you,"  replied  my  father, 
vaguely. 

"But  at  least  it  is  very  pleasant,"  I  insisted. 

"  I  'm  glad  you  find  it  so,"  lie  said ;  "  I  shoidd 
have  been  disappointed  if  it  had  struck  you  as 
cold,  or  —  gloomy  —  in  any  way." 

It  was  still  so  early  that  all  the  village  was 
asleep.  The  blinds  and  curtains  of  the  houses 
were  drawn  and  the  doors  yet  locked.  None  of 
our  neighbors  were  astir,  nor  were  there  any 
signs  of  traffic  yet  in  the  little  shops.  The 
great  factory-bell,  which  woke  the  operatives 
at  half-past  four,  had  rung,  but  this  was  the 
only  evidence  as  yet  of  human  life  or  motion. 
It  did  not  occur  to  me,  till  afterwards,  to 
wonder  at  the  inconsistency  between  the  hour 
struck  by  my  own  Swiss  clock  and  the  factory 
time. 

I  was  more  interested  in  another  matter 
which  just  then  presented  itself  to  me. 

The  village,  as  I  say,  was  still  asleep.  Once 
I  heard  the  distant  hoofs  of  a  horse  sent  clat- 
tering after  the  doctor,  and  ridden  by  a  mes- 
senger from  a  household  in  mortal  need. 


BEYOND    THE  GATES.  31 

Up  to  this,  time  we  two  had  seemed  to  be  the 
only  watchers  in  all  the  world. 

Now,  as  I  turned  to  see  if  I  could  discover 
whose  horse  it  was  and  so  who  was  in  emer- 
gency, I  observed  suddenly  that  the  sidewalk 
was  full  of  people.  I  say  full  of  people;  I 
mean  that  there  was  a  group  behind  us  ;  a  few, 
also,  before  us ;  some,  too,  were  crossing  the 
street.  They  conversed  together  standing  at 
the  corners,  or  walked  in  twos,  as  father  and 
I  were  doing ;  or  strolled,  some  of  them  alone. 
Some  of  them  seemed  to  have  immediate  busi- 
ness and  to  be  in  haste ;  others  sauntered  as  he 
who  has  no  occupation.  Some  talked  and  ges- 
ticulated earnestly,  or  laughed  loudly.  Others 
went  with  a  thoughtful  manner,  speaking  not 
at  all. 

As  I  watched  them  I  began  to  recognize 
here  and  there,  a  man,  or  a  woman  ;  —  there 
were  more  men  than  women  among  them,  and 
there  were  no  children. 

A  few  of  these  people,  I  soon  saw,  were  old 
neighbors  of  ours  ;  some  I  had  known  when  I 
was  a  child,  and  had  forgotten  till  this  moment. 


82  BEYOND    THE   GATES. 

Several  of  them  bowed  to  us  as  we  passed 
along.  One  man  stopped  and  waited  for  us, 
and  spoke  to  Father,  who  shook  hands  with 
him ;  intimating,  however,  pleasantly  enough, 
that  he  was  in  haste,  and  must  be  excused  for 
passing  on. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  see,"  said  the  man  with  a 
glance  at  me.  I  then  distinctly  saw  this  per- 
son's face,  and  knew  him  beyond  a  doubt,  for 
an  old  neighbor,  a  certain  Mr.  Snarl,  a  miserly, 
sanctimonious  man  — I  had  never  liked  him. 

"  Father  !  "  I  stopped  short.  "  Father,  that 
man  is  dead.  He  has  been  dead  for  twenty 
years !  " 

Now,  at  this,  I  began  to  tremble ;  yet  not 
from  fear,  I  think  ;  from  amazement,  rather, 
and  the  great  confusion  which  I  felt. 

"  And  there  "  —  I  pointed  to  a  pale  young 
man  who  had  been  thrown  from  his  carriage 
(it  was  said  because  he  was  in  no  condition  to 
drive)  —  "  there  is  Bobby  Bend.  He  died  last 
winter." 

"  Well,"  said  Father  quietly,  "  and  what 
then?" 


BEYOND    THE  GATES.  33 

"  And  over  there  —  v>  liy,  certainly  that  is 
Mrs.  Mersey !  " 

I  had  known  Mrs.  Mersey  for  a  lovely 
woman.  She  died  of  a  fever  conti'acted  in  the 
care  of  a  poor,  neglected  creature.  I  saw  her 
at  this  moment  across  and  far  down  the  street, 
coming  from  a  house  where  there  was  trouble. 
She  came  with  a  swift,  elastic  motion,  unlike 
that  of  any  of  the  others  who  were  about  us ; 
the  difference  was  marked,  and  yet  one  which 
I  should  have  found  it  at  that  time  impossible 
to  describe.  Perhaps  I  might  have  said  that 
she  hovered  above  rather  than  touched  the 
earth ;  but  this  would  not  have  defined  the 
distinction.  As  I  looked  after  her  she  disap- 
peared ;  in  what  direction  I  could  not  tell. 

"  So  they  are  dead  people,"  I  said,  with  a 
sort  of  triumph ;  almost  as  if  I  kad  dared  my 
father  to  deny  it.     He  smiled. 

"  Father,  I  begin  to  be  perplexed.  I  have 
heard  of  these  .hallucinations,  of  course,  and 
read  the  authenticated  stories,  but  I  never 
supposed  I  could  be  a  subject  of  such  illusions. 
It  must  be  because  I  have  been  so  sick." 
3 


34  BEYOND  THE  GATES. 

"  Partly  because  you  have  been  so  sick  — 
yes,"  said  Father  drawing  down  the  corners  of 
his  mouth,  in  that  way  he  had  when  he  was 
amused.  I  went  on  to  tell  him  that  it  seemed 
natural  to  see  him,  but  that  I  was  surprised  to 
meet  those  others  who  had  left  us,  and  that  I 
did  not  find  it  altogether  agreeable. 

"  Are  you  afraid  ?  "  he  asked  me,  as  he  had 
before.    No,  I  could  not  say  that  I  was  afraid. 

"Then  hasten  on,"  he  said  in  a  different 
tone,  "  our  business  is  not  with  them,  at  pres- 
ent.   See !  we  have  already  left  them  behind." 

And,  indeed,  when  I  glanced  back,  I  saw  that 
we  had.  We,  too,  were  now  traveling  alone 
together,  and  at  a  much  faster  speed,  towards 
the  outskirts  of  the  town.  We  were  moving 
eastward.  Before  us  the  splendid  day  was 
coming  up.  The  sky  was  unfolding,  shade 
above  shade,  paler  at  the  edge,  and  glowing  at 
the  heart,  like  the  petals  of  a  great  rose. 

The  snow  was  melting  on  the  moors  towards 
which  we  bent  our  steps ;  the  water  stood 
here  and  there  in  pools,  and  glistened.  A 
little  winter  bird  —  some  chickadee  or  wood- 


BEYOND   TEE  GATES.  85 

pecker  —  was  bathing  in  one  of  tliese  pools ; 
his  tiny  brown  body  glowed  in  the  brightness, 
flashing  to  and  fro.  He  chirped  and  twittered 
and  seemed  bursting  with  joy.  As  we  ap- 
proached the  moors,  the  stalks  of  the  sumachs, 
the  mulberries,  the  golden-rod,  and  asters,  all 
the  wayside  weeds  and  the  bro\vn  things  that 
we  never  know  and  never  love  till  winter,  rose 
beautiful  from  the  snow ;  the  icicles  melted  and 
dripped  from  them ;  the  dead-gold-colored 
leaves  of  the  low  oaks  rustled  ;  at  a  distance 
we  heard  the  sweet  sough  from  a  grove  of 
pines ;  behind  us  the  morning  bells  of  the 
village  broke  into  bubbles  of  cheerful  sound. 
As  we  walked  on  together  I  felt  myself  be- 
come stronger  at  every  step ;  my  heart  grew 
light. 

"  It  is  a  good  world,"  I  cried,  "it  is  a  good 
world  !  " 

"  So  it  is,"  said  my  father  heartily,  "  and 
yet  —  my  dear  daughter  "  —  He  hesitated  ; 
80  long  that  I  looked  into  his  face  earnestly, 
and  then  I  saw  that  a  strange  gravity  had 
settled  upon  it.  It  was  not  like  any  look  that 
I  had  ever  seen  there  before. 


36  BEYOND    THE  GATES. 

"  I  have  better  things  to  show  you,''  he  said 
gently. 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  sir." 

"  We  have  only  begun  our  journey,  Mary  ; 
and  —  if  you  do  not  understand  —  but  1 
thought  you  would  have  done  so  by  this  time 
—  I  wonder  if  she  is  going  to  be  frightened 
after  aU!" 

We  were  now  well  out  upon  the  moors,  alone 
together,  on  the  side  of  the  hill.  The  town 
looked  far  behind  us  and  insignificant.  The 
earth  dwindled  and  the  sky  grew,  as  we  looked 
from  one  to  the  other.  It  seemed  to  me  that 
I  had  never  before  noticed  how  small  a  portion 
of  our  range  of  vision  is  filled  by  the  surface 
of  earth,  and  what  occuj^ies  it ;  and  how  im- 
mense the  proportion  of  the  heavens.  As  we 
stood  there,  it  seemed  to  overwhelm  us. 

"  Rise,"  said  my  father  in  a  voice  of  solemn 
authority,  "  rise  quickly !  " 

I  struggled  at  his  words,  for  he  seemed  to 
slip  from  me,  and  I  feared  to  lose  him.  I 
struggled  and  struck  out  into  the  air ;  I  felt  a 
wild  excitement,  like  one  plunged  into  a  deep 


BEYOND    THE  GATES.  37 

sea,  and  desperately  swimming,  as  animals  do, 
and  a-  few  men,  from  blind  instinct,  having 
never  learned.  My  father  spoke  encourag- 
ingly, and  with  tenderness.  He  never  once  let 
go  my  hand.  I  felt  myself,  beyond  all  doubt, 
soaring  —  slowly  and  weakly  —  but  surely  as- 
cending above  the  solid  gTound. 

"  See !  there  is  nothing  to  fear,"  he  said 
from  time  to  time.  I  did  not  answer.  My 
heart  beat  fast.  1  exerted  all  my  strength 
and  took  a  stronger  stroke.  I  felt  that  I 
gained  upon  myself.  I  closed  my  eyes,  look- 
ing neither  above  nor  below. 

Suddenly,  as  gently  as  the  opening  of  a 
water  lily,  and  yet  as  swiftly  as  the  cleaving 
of  the  lightning,  there  came  to  me  a  thought 
which  made  my  brain  whirl,  and  I  cried  aloud  : 

"Father,  am  /dead  ?  "  My  hands  slipped 
—  I  grew  dizzy  —  wavered  —  and  fluttered. 
I  was  sure  that  I  should  fall.  At  that  instant 
I  was  caught  with  the  iron  of  tenderness  and 
held,  like  a  very  young  child,  in  my  father's 
arms.  He  said  nothing,  only  patted  me  on 
the  cheek,  as  we  ascended,  he  seeing,  and  I 


38  BEYOND    THE  GATES. 

blind  ;  he  strength,  and  I  weakness ;  he  who 
knew  all,  and  I  who  knew  nothing,  silently  with 
the  rising  sun  athwart  the  rose-lit  air. 

I  was  awed,  more  than  there  are  words  to 
say ;  but  I  felt  no  more  fear  than  I  used*  to  do 
when  he  carried  me  on  his  shoulder  up  the 
garden  walk,  after  it  grew  dark,  when  I  was 
tired  out  with  play. 


m. 

I  USE  the  words  "ascension"  and  "arising" 
in  the  superficial  sense  of  earthly  imagery.  Of 
course,  carefully  speaking,  there  can  be  no  up 
or  do\vTi  to  the  motion  of  beings  detached  from 
a  revolving  globe,  and  set  adrift  in  space.  I 
thought  of  this  in  the  first  moment,  with  the 
keenness  which  distinguishes  between  knowl- 
edge and  experience.  I  knew  when  our  jour- 
ney came  to  an  end,  by  the  gradual  cessation 
of  our  rapid  motion  ;  but  at  first  I  did  not  in- 
cline to  investigate  beyond  this  fact.  Whether 
I  was  only  tired,  or  giddy,  or  whether  a  little 
of  what  we  used  to  call  faintness  overcame 
me,  I  can  hardly  say.  If  this  were  so,  it  was 
rather  a  spiritual  than  a  physical  disability ; 
it  was  a  faintness  of  the  soid.  Now  I  found 
this  more  energetic  than  the  bodily  sensations 
I  had  known.  I  scarcely  sought  to  wrestle 
against  it,  but  lay  quite  still,  where  we  had 
come  to  a  halt.  "^ 


40  BEYOND  TBI-:   GATES. 

I  wish  to  say  here,  that  if  you  ask  me  where 
this  was,  I  must  answer  that  I  do  not  know. 
I  must  say  distinctly  that,  though  after  the 
act  of  dying  I  departed  from  the  surface  of 
the  earth,  and  reached  the  confines  of  a  differ- 
ent locality,  I  cannot  yet  instruct  another 
where  this  place  may  be. 

My  impression  that  it  was  not  a  vast  dis- 
tance (measured,  I  mean,  by  an  astronomical 
scale)  from  our  globe,  is  a  strong  one,  which, 
however,  I  cannot  satisfactorily  defend.  There 
seemed  to  be  flowers  about  me ;  I  wondered 
what  they  were,  but  lay  with  my  face  hidden 
in  my  arm,  not  caring  yet  to  look  about.  I 
thought  of  that  old-fashioned  allegory  called 
"  The  Distant  Hills,"  where  the  good  girl, 
when  she  died,  sank  upon  a  bed  of  violets;  but 
the  bad  girl  slijiped  upon  rolling  stones  be- 
neath a  tottering  ruin.  This  trifling  memory 
occupied  me  for  some  moments  ;  yet  it  had  so 
great  significance  to  me,  that  I  recall  it,  even 
now,  with  pungent  gratitude. 

"I  shall  remember  what  I  have  read." 
This  was  my  first  thought  in  the  new  state 


BEYOND    THE  GATES.  41 

to  which  I  had  come.  Minna  was  the  name 
of  the  girl  in  the  allegory.  The  illustrations 
were  very  poor,  but  had  tliat  uncanny  fascina- 
tion which  haunts  allegorical  pictures  —  often 
the  more  powerful  because  of  their  rudeness. 

As  I  lay  there,  still  not  caring,  or  even  not 
daring  to  look  up,  the  fact  that  I  was  crush- 
ing flowers  beneath  me  became  more  apparent ; 
a  delicate  perfume  arose  and  surrounded  me ; 
it  was  like  and  yet  unlike  any  that  I  had  ever 
known  ;  its  familiarity  entranced,  its  novelty 
allured  me.  Suddenly  I  perceived  what  it 
was  — 

"  Mignonette !  " 

I  laughed  at  my  own  dullness  in  detecting 
it,  and  could  not  help  wondering  Avhether  it 
were  accident  or  design  that  had  given  me  for 
my  first  experience  in  the  new  life,  the  gratifi- 
cation of  a  little  personal  taste  like  this.  For 
a  few  moments  I  yielded  to  the  pure  and  ex- 
quisite perfume,  which  stole  into  my  whole 
nature,  or  it  seemed  to  me  so  then.  After- 
wards I  learned  how  little  I  knew  of  my  "  whole 
nature  "  at  that  time. 


42  BEYOND    THE  GATES. 

Presently  I  took  courage,  and  lifted  my 
head.  I  hardly  know  what  I  expected  to  see. 
Visions  of  the  Golden  City  in  the  Apocalypse 
had  flitted  before  me.  I  thought  of  the  River 
of  Death  in  the  "  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  of  the 
last  scene  in  the  "  Voyage  of  Life,"  of  The- 
remin's "Awakening,"  of  several  famous  books 
and  pictures  which  I  had  read  or  seen,  describ- 
ing what  we  call  Heaven.  These  works  of  the 
human  imagination  —  stored  away  perhaps  in 
the  frontal  lobes  of  the  brain,  as  scientists 
used  to  tell  us  —  had  influenced  my  anticipa- 
tions more  than  I  could  have  believed  possible 
till  that  moment. 

I  was  indeed  in  a  beautiful  place ;  but  it 
did  not  look,  in  any  respect,  as  I  had  expected. 
No  ;  I  think  not  in  any  respect.  Many  things 
which  happened  to  me  later,  I  can  describe 
more  vividly  than  I  can  this  first  impression. 
In  one  way  it  was  a  complex,  in  another,  a 
marvelously  simple  one.  Chiefly,  I  think  I 
had  a  consciousness  of  safety  —  infinite  safety. 
All  my  soul  drew  a  long  breath  —  "  Nothing 
more  can  happen  to  me  I  "     Yet,  at  the  same 


BEYOND    THE  GATES.  43 

time,  I  felt  that  I  was  at  the  outset  of  all  ex- 
perience. It  was  as  if  my  heart  cried  aloud, 
"  Where  shall  I  begin  ?  " 

I  looked  about  and  abroad.  My  father 
stood  at  a  little  distance  from  me,  conversing 
with  some  friends.  I  did  not  know  them. 
They  had  great  brightness  and  beauty  of  ap- 
pearance. So,  also,  had  he.  He  had  altered 
perceptibly  since  he  met  me  in  the  lower  world, 
and  seemed  to  glow  and  become  absorbent 
of  light  from  some  source  yet  unseen.  This 
struck  me  forcibly  in  all  the  people  whom  I 
saw  —  there  were  many  of  them,  going  to  and 
fro  busily  —  that  they  were  receptive  and  re- 
flecting beings.  They  differed  greatly  in  the 
degi'ee  in  which  they  gave  this  impression ;  but 
all  gave  it.  Some  were  quite  pale,  though 
pure  in  color  ;  others  glowed  and  shone.  Yet 
when  I  say  color,  I  use  an  earthly  word,  which 
does  not  express  my  meaning.  It  was  more 
the  atmosphere  or  penumbra,  in  which  each 
moved,  that  I  refer  to,  perhaps,  than  the  tint 
of  their  bodies.  They  had  bodies,  very  like 
such  as  I  was  used  to.     I  saw  that  I  myself 


44  BEYOND    THE  GATES. 

was  not,  or  so  it  appeared,  greatly  changed. 
I  had  form  and  dress,  and  I  moved  at  will, 
and  experienced  sensations  of  pleasure  and, 
above  all,  of  magnificent  health.  For  a  while 
I  was  absorbed,  without  investigating  details, 
in  the  mere  sense  of  physical  ease  and  power. 
I  did  not  wish  to  speak,  or  to  be  spoken  to, 
nor  even  to  stir  and  exercise  my  splendid 
strength.  It  was  more  than  enough  to  feel  it, 
after  all  those  weeks  of  pain.  I  lay  back 
again  upon  the  mignonette;  as  I  did  so,  I 
noticed  that  the  flowers  where  my  form  had 
pressed  them  were  not  bruised ;  they  had 
sprung  erect  again  ;  they  had  not  wilted,  nor 
even  hung  their  heads  as  if  they  were  hurt  — 
I  lay  back  upon,  and  deep  within,  the  mignon- 
ette, and,  drowned  in  the  delicate  odor,  gazed 
about  me. 

Yes ;  I  was  truly  in  a  wonderful  place.  It 
was  in  the  country  (as  we  should  say  below), 
though  I  saw  signs  of  large  centres  of  iif e,  out- 
lines of  distant  architecture  far  away.  There 
were  hills,  and  vast  distances,  and  vistas  of  hill 
tints  in  the  atmosphere.     There  were  forests 


BEYOND    THE   GATES.  45 

of  great  depth.  There  was  an  expanse  of 
shining  water.  There  were  fiekls  of  fine  ex- 
tent and  color,  undulating  like  green  seas. 
The  sun  was  high  —  if  it  were  the  sun.  At 
least  there  was  great  brilliance  about  me. 
Flowers  must  have  been  abundant,  for  the  air 
was  alive  with  perfumes. 

When  I  have  said  this,  I  seem  to  have  said 
little  or  nothing.  Certain  it  is  that  these  first 
impressions  came  to  me  in  broad  masses,  like 
the  sweep  of  a  large  brush  or  blender  upon 
canvas.  Of  details  I  received  few,  for  a  long 
time.  I  was  overcome  with  a  sense  of  Nature 
—  freedom  —  health  —  beauty,  as  if  —  how 
shall  I  say  it  ?  —  as  if  for  the  first  time  I 
understood  what  generic  terms  meant ;  as  if  I 
had  entered  into  the  secret  of  all  abstract 
glory;  as  if  what  we  had  kno^\^l  as  philosoph- 
ical or  as  poetical  phrases  were  now  become 
attainable  facts,  each  possessing  that  individ- 
ual existence  in  which  dreamers  upon  earth'dare 
to  believe,  and  of  which  no  doubter  can  be 
taught. 

I  am  afraid  I  do  not  express  this  with  any- 


46  BEYOND    THE  GATES. 

thing  like  the  simplicity  with  which  I  felt  it ; 
and  to  describe  it  with  anything  resembling  the 
power  would  be  impossible. 

I  felt  my  smallness  and  ignorance  in  view  of 
the  wonders  which  lay  before  me.  "I  shall 
have  time  enough  to  study  them,"  I  thought, 
but  the  thought  itself  thrilled  me  throughout, 
and  proved  far  more  of  an  excitant  than  a  seda- 
tive. I  rose  slowly,  and  stood  trembling  among 
the  mignonette.  I  shielded  my  eyes  with  my 
hand,  not  from  any  glare  or  dazzle  or  strain, 
but  only  from  the  presence  and  the  pressure  of 
beauty,  and  so  stood  looking  off.  As  I  did  so, 
certain  words  came  to  mind  with  the  haunting 
voice  of  a  broken  quotation  : 

"  Neither  have  entered  into  the  heart  of 
man  " — 

"  The  things  which  God  hath jorepared  " — 

It  was  a  relief  to  me  to  see  my  father  com- 
ing towards  me  at  that  moment,  for  I  had,  per- 
haps, undergone  as  much  keen  emotion  as  one 
well  bears,  compressed  into  a  short  space  of 
time.     He  met  m^  smiling. 

"  And  how  is  it,  Mary  ?  " 


BEYOND   THE  GATES.  47 

"  My  first  Bible  verse  has  just  occurred  to 
me,  Father  —  the  first  religious  thought  I  've 
had  in  Heaven  yet  I  "  I  tried  to  speak  lightly, 
feeling  too  deeply  for  endurance.  I  repeated 
the  words  to  him,  for  he  asked  me  what  they 
were  which  had  come  to  me. 

"  That  is  a  pleasant  experience,"  he  said 
quietly.  "  It  differs  with  us  all.  1  have  seen 
people  enter  in  a  transport  of  haste  to  see  the 
Lord  Himself  —  noticing  nothing,  forgetting 
everything.  I  have  seen  others  come  in  a  trans- 
port of  terror  —  so  afraid  they  were  of  Him.'* 

"  And  I  had  scarcely  thought  about  seeing 
Him  till  now!  "  I  felt  ashamed  of  this.  But 
my  father  cdinf orted  me  by  a  look. 

"  Each  comes  to  his  own  by  his  own,"  he 
said.  "  The  nature  is  never  forced.  Here  we 
unfold  like  a  leaf,  a  flower.  He  expects  noth- 
ing of  us  but  to  be  natural." 

This  seemed  to  me  a  deep  saying  ;  and  the 
more  I  thought  of  it  the  deeper  it  seemed.  I 
said  so  as  we  walked,  separate  still  from  the 
others,  through  the  beautiful  weather.  The 
change  from  a  New  England  winter  to  the  di- 


48  BEYOND   THE  GATES. 

mate  in  which  I  found  myself  was,  in  itself, 
not  the  least  of  the  great  effects  and  delights 
which  I  experienced  that  first  day. 

If  nothing  were  expected  of  us  but  to  be  nat- 
ural, it  was  the  more  necessary  that  it  should 
be  natural  to  be  right. 

I  felt  the  full  force  of  this  conviction  as  it 
had  never  been  possible  to  feel  it  in  the  other 
state  of  being,  where  I  was  under  restraint. 
The  meaning  of  liberty  broke  upon  me  like  a 
sunburst.  Freedom  was  in  and  of  itself  the 
highest  law.  Had  I  thought  that  death  was  to 
mean  release  from  personal  obedience  ?  Lo, 
death  itself  was  but  the  elevation  of  moral 
claims,  from  lower  to  higher.  I  perceived  how 
all  demands  of  the  larger  upon  the  lesser  self 
must  be  increased  in  the  condition  to  which  I 
had  arrived.  J  felt  overpowered  for  the  moment 
with  the  intensity  of  these  claims.  It  seemed 
to  me  that  I  had  never  really  known  before, 
what  obligation  meant.  Conduct  was  now  the 
least  of  difficulties.  For  impulse,  which  lay 
behind  conduct,  for  all  force  which  wrought  out 
fact  in  me,  I  had  become  accountable. 


BEYOND    TEE   GATES.  49 

"  As  nearly  as  I  can  make  it  out,  Father," 
I  said,  "  henceforth  I  shall  be  responsible  for 
my  nature." 

"  Something  like  that ;  not  altogether." 

"  The  force  of  circumstance  and  heredity," 
—  I  began,  using  the  old  earthly  patois.  "  Of 
course  I  'm  not  to  be  called  to  accoimt  for  what 
I  start  with  here,  any  more  than  I  was  for  what 
I  started  with  there.  That  would  be  neither 
science  nor  philosophy." 

"We  are  neither  unscientific  nor  unphilo- 
sophical,  you  will  find,"  said  my  father,  pa- 
tiently. 

"  I  am  very  dull,  sir.  Be  patient  with  me. 
What  I  am  trying  to  say,  I  believe,  is  that  I 
shall  feel  the  deepest  mortification  if  I  do  not 
find  it  natural  to  do  right.  This  feeling  is  so 
keen,  that  to  be  WTong  must  be  the  most  unnat- 
ural thing  in  the  world.  There  is  certainly  a 
great  difference  from  what  it  used  to  be ;  I 
cannot  explain  it.  Already  I  am  ashamed  of 
the  smallness  of  my  thoughts  when  I  first 
looked  about  in  this  place.  Already  I  cannot 
miderstand  why  I  did  not  spring  like  a  foun- 


50  BEYOND   THE  GATES. 

tain  to  the  Highest,  to  the  Best.     But  then, 
Father,  I  never  was  a  devotee,  you  know." 

"When  I  had  uttered  these  wprds  I  felt  a  re- 
coil from  myself,  and  sense  of  discord.  I  was 
making  excuses  for  myself.  That  used  to  be  a 
fault  of  the  past  life.  One  did  not  do  it  here. 
It  was  as  if  I  had  committed  some  grave  social 
indecorum.  I  felt  myself  blushing.  My  fa- 
ther noticed  my  embarrassment,  and  called  my 
attention  to  a  brook  by  which  we  were  walk- 
ing, beginning  to  talk  of  its  peculiar  translu- 
cence  and  rhythm,  and  other  little  novelties, 
thus  kindly  diverting  me  from  my  distress,  and 
teaching  mfe  how  we  were  spared  everything  we 
could  be  in  heaven,  even  in  trifles  like  this.  I 
was  not  so  much  as  permitted  to  bear  the  edge 
of  my  regret,  without  the  velvet  of  tenderness 
interposing  to  blunt  the  smart.  It  used  to  be 
thought  among  us  below  that  one  must  be  al- 
lowed to  suffer  from  error,  to  learn.  It  seemed 
to  be  found  here,  that  one  learned  by  being 
saved  from  suffering.  I  wondered  how  it 
would  be  in  the  case  of  a  really  grave  wrong 
which  I  might  be  so  miserable  as  to  commit ; 


BEYOND  THE  GATES.  51 

and  if  I  should  ever  be  so  unfortunate  as  to 
discover  by  personal  experience. 

This  train  of  thought  went  on  while  I  was 
examining  the  brook.  It  had  brilliant  colors 
in  the  shallows,  where  certain  strange  agates 
formed  pebbles  of  great  beauty.  There  were 
also  shells.  A  brook  with  shells  enchanted 
me.  I  gathered  some  of  them ;  they  had  opal- 
ine tints,  and  some  were  transparent  as  spun 
glass  ;  they  glittered  in  the  hand,  and  did  not 
dull  when  out  of  the  water,  like  the  shells  we 
were  used  to.  The  shadows  of  strange  trees 
hung  across  the  tiny  brown  current,  and  un- 
familiar birds  flashed  like  tossed  jewels  over- 
head, through  the  branches  and  against  the 
wonderful  color  of  the  sky.  The  birds  were 
singing.  One  among  them  had  a  marvelous 
note.  I  listened  to  it  for  some  time  before  I 
discovered  that  this  bird  was  singing  a  Te 
Deum.  How  I  knew  that  it  was  a  Te  Deum 
I  cannot  say.  The  others  were  more  like 
earthly  birds,  except  for  the  thrilling  sweet- 
ness of  their  notes  —  and  I  could  not  see  this 
one,  for  she  seemed  to  be  hidden  from  sight 


62  BEYOND  THE   GATES. 

upon  her  nest.  I  observed  that  the  bird  upon 
the  nest  sang  here  as  well  as  that  upon  the 
bough;  and  that  I  understood  her:  "Te  Deum 
laudamus  —  laudamus^'  as  distinctly  as  if  I 
had  been  listening  to  a  human  voice. 

When  I  had  comprehended  this,  and  stood 
entranced  to  listen,  I  began  to  catch  the  same 
melody  in  the  murmur  of  the  water,  and  per- 
ceived, to  my  astonishment,  that  the  two,  the 
brook  and  the  bird,  carried  parts  of  the  har- 
mony of  a  solemn  and  majestic  mass.  Appar- 
ently these  were  but  portions  of  the  whole,  but 
all  which  it  was  permitted  me  to  hear.  My 
father  explained  to  me  that  it  was  not  every 
natural  beauty  which  had  the  power  to  join  in 
such  surpassing  chorals ;  these  were  selected, 
for  reasons  which  he  did  not  attempt  to  speci- 
fy. I  surmised  that  they  were  some  of  the 
simplest  of  the  wonders  of  this  mythical  world, 
which  were  entrusted  to  new-comers,  as  being 
first  within  the  range  of  their  capacities.  I 
was  enraptured  with  what  I  heard.  The  light 
throbbed  about  me.  The  sweet  harmony  rang 
on.    I  bathed  my  face  in  the  musical  water  — 


BEYOND  THE  GATES.  63 

it  was  as  if  I  absorbed  the  sound  at  the  pores 
of  my  skin.  Dimly  I  received  a  hint  of  the 
possible  existence  of  a  sense  or  senses  of  which 
I  had  never  heard. 

What  wonders  were  to  come !  What  knowl- 
edge, what  marvel,  what  stimulation  and  sat- 
isfaction !  And  I  had  but  just  begim  !  I  was 
overwhelmed  with  this  thought,  and  looked 
about ;  I  knew  not  wliich  way  to  turn  ;  I  had 
not  what  to  say.  Where  was  the  first  step  ? 
What  was  the  next  delight  ?  The  fire  of  dis- 
covery kindled  in  my  veins.  Let  us  liasten, 
that  we  may  investigate  Heaven  ! 

"  Shall  we  go  on  ?  "  asked  Father,  regard- 
ing me  earnestly. 

"  Yes,  yes !  "  I  cried,  "  let  us  go  on.  Let 
us  see  more  —  learn  all.  What  a  world  have 
I  come  to !  Let  us  begin  at  the  beginning,  and 
go  to  the  end  of  it !    Come  quickly !  " 

I  caught  his  hand,  and  we  started  on  my 
eager  mood.  I  felt  almost  a  superabundance 
of  vitality,  and  sprang  along ;  there  was  ever- 
lasting health  within  my  bounding  arteries ; 
there  was  eternal  vigor  in  my  firm  muscle  and 


64  BEYOND  THE  GATE 8. 

sinews.  How  shall  I  express,  to  one  who  has 
never  experienced  it,  the  consciousness  of  life 
that  can  never  die  ? 

I  could  have  leaped,  flown,  or  danced  like  a 
child.  I  knew  not  how  to  walk  sedately,  like 
others  whom  I  saw  about  us,  who  looked  at  me 
smiling,  as  older  people  look  at  the  young  on 
earth.  "  I,  too,  have  felt  thus  —  and  thus."  I 
wanted  to  exercise  the  power  of  my  arms -and 
limbs.  I  longed  to  test  the  triumphant  poise 
of  my  nerve.  My  brain  grew  clearer  and 
clearer,  while  for  the  gladness  in  my  heart 
there  is  not  any  earthly  word.  As  I  bounded 
on,  I  looked  more  curiously  at  the  construction 
of  the  body  in  which  I  found  myself.  It  was, 
and  yet  it  was  not,  like  that  which  I  had  worn 
on  earth.  I  seemed  to  have  slipped  out  of  one 
garment  into  another.  Perhaps  it  was  nearer 
the  truth  to  say  that  it  was  like  casting  off 
an  outer  for  an  inner  dress.  There  were  ner- 
vous and  arterial  and  other  systems,  it  seemed, 
to  which  I  had  been  accustomed.  I  cannot  ex- 
plain wherein  they  differed,  as  they  surely  did, 
and  did  enormously,  from  their  representatives 


BEYOND  THE  GATES.  55 

below.  If  I  say  that  I  felt  as  if  I  had  got  into 
the  soul  of  a  hody.,  shall  I  be  understood  ?  It 
was  as  if  I  had  been  encased,  one  body  witliin 
the  other,  to  use  a  small  earthly  comparison, 
like  the  ivory  figures  which  curious  Chinese 
carvers  cut  within  temple  windows.  I  was 
constantly  siu'prised  at  this.  I  do  not  know 
what  I  had  expected,  but  assuredly  nothing 
like  the  fact.  Vague  visions  of  gaseous  or 
meteoric  angelic  forms  have  their  place  in  the 
imaginations  of  most  of  us  below  ;  we  picture 
our  future  selves  as  a  kind  of  nebidosity. 
When  I  felt  the  spiritual  flesh,  when  I  used 
the  strange  muscle,  when  I  heard  the  new 
heart-beat  of  my  heavenly  identity,  I  remem- 
bered certain  words,  with  a  sting  of  mortifica- 
tion that  I  had  known  them  all  my  life,  and 
paid  so  cool  a  heed  to  them :  "  Ther^  is  a  ter- 
restrial body,  and  there  is  a  celestial  body." 
The  glory  of  the  terrestrial  was  one.  Behold, 
the  glory  of  the  celestial  was  another.  St. 
Paul  had  set  this  tremendous  assertion  revolv- 
ing in  the  sky  of  the  human  mind,  like  a  star 
which  we  had  not  brought  into  our  astronomy. 


56  BEYOND  THE  GATES. 

It  was  not  a  hint  or  a  hope  that  he  gave ;  it 
was  the  affirmation  of  a  man  who  presmned  to 
know.  In  common  with  most  of  his  readers, 
I  had  received  his  statement  with  a  poor  in- 
credulity or  cold  disregard.  Nothing  in  the 
whole  range  of  what  we  used  to  call  the  Bible, 
had  been  more  explicit  than  those  words ;  nei- 
ther metaphor,  nor  allegory,  nor  parable  be- 
«  fogged  them  ;  they  were  as  clear  ciit  as  the 
dictum  of  Descartes.  I  recalled  them  with 
confusion,  as  I  bounded  over  the  elastic  and 
wondrously-tinted  grass. 

Never  before,  at  least,  had  I  known  what 
the  color  of  green  should  be  ;  resembling,  while 
differing  from  that  called  by  the  name  on  earth 
— «,  development  of  a  color,  a  blossom  from  a 
bud,  a  marvel  from  a  commonplace.  Thus  the 
sweet  and  common  clothing  which  Gocl  had 
given  to  our  familiar  earth,  transfigured, 
wrapped  again  the  hills  and  fields  of  Heaven. 
And  oh,  what  else  ?  what  next  ?  I  turned  to  my 
father  to  ask  him  in  which  direction  we  were 
going ;  at  this  moment  an  arrest  of  the  whole 
current  of  feeling  checked  me  like  a  great  dam. 


BEYOND  THE  GATES.  67 

Up  to  this  point  I  had  gone  dizzily  on ;  I 
had  experienced  the  thousand  diversions  of  a 
traveler  in  a  foreign  laud  ;  and,  like  such  a 
traveler,  I  had  become  oblivious  of  that  which 
I  had  left.  The  terrible  incapacity  of  the  hu- 
man mind  to  retain  more  than  one  class  of 
strong  impressions  at  once,  was  temporarily 
increased  by  the  strain  of  this,  the  greatest  of 
all  human  experiences.  The  new  had  expelled 
the  old.  In  an  intense  revulsion  of  feeling,  too 
strong  for  expression,  I  turned  my  back  on  the 
beautiful  landscape;  All  Heaven  was  before 
me,  but  dear,  daily  love  was  behind. 

"  Father,"  I  said,  choking,  "  I  never  forgot 
them  before  in  aU  my  life.  Take  me  home  1 
Let  me  go  at  once.  I  am  not  fit  to  be  alive 
if  Heaven  itself  can  lead  me  to  neglect  my 
mother." 


rv. 

In  my  distress  I  turned  and  would  have  fled, 
which  way  I  knew  not.  I  was  swept  up  like 
a  weed  on  a  surge  of  self-reproach  and  longing. 
What  was  eternal  life  if  she  had  found  out 
that  I  was  dead  ?  What  were  the  splendors  of 
Paradise,  if  she  missed  me  ?  It  was  made  evi- 
dent to  me  that  my  father  was  gratified  at  the 
turn  my  impulses  had  taken,  but  he  intimated 
that  it  might  not  be  possible  to  follow  them, 
and  that  this  was  a  matter  which  must  be  in- 
vestigated before  acting.  This  surprised  me, 
and  I  inquired  of  him  eagerly  — yet,  I  think 
not  passionately,  not  angrily,  as  I  should  once 
have  done  at  the  thwarting  of  such  a  wish 
as  that  —  what  he  meant  by  the  doubt  he 
raised. 

"  It  is  not  always  permitted,"  he  said  grave- 
ly. "  We  cannot  return  when  we  would.  We 
go  upon  these  errands  when  it  is  Willed.    I 


BEYOND  THE  GATES.  69 

will  go  and  learn  what  the  Will  may  be  for 
you  touching  this  matter.  Stay  here  and  wait 
for  me." 

Before  I  could  speak,  he  had  departed  swift- 
ly, with  the  great  and  glad  motion  of  those  who 
go  upon  sure  business  in  this  happy  place ;  as  if 
he  himself,  at  least,  obeyed  unseen  directions, 
and  obeyed  them  with  his  whole  being.  To 
me,  so  lately  from  a  lower  life,  and  still  so 
choked  with  its  errors,  this  loving  obedience  of 
the  soul  to  a  great  central  Force  which  I  felt 
on  every  hand,  but  comprehended  not,  as  yet, 
affected  me  like  the  discovery  of  a  truth  in  sci- 
ence. It  was  as  if  I  had  found  a  new  law 
of  gTavitation,  to  be  mastered  only  by  infinite 
attention.  I  fell  to  thinking  more  quietly  after 
my  father  had  left  me  alone.  There  came  a 
subsidence  to  my  tempestuous  impulse,  which 
astonished  myself.  I  felt  myself  drawn  and 
shaped,  even  like  a  wave  by  the  tide,  by  some- 
thing mightier  far  than  my  own  wish.  But 
there  was  this  about  the  state  of  feeling  into 
which  I  had  come :  that  which  controlled  me 
was  not  only  greater,  it  was  dearer  than  my 


60  BEYOND  THE   GATES. 

desire.  Ali'eady  a  calmness  conquered  my 
storm.  Already  my  heart  awaited,  without 
outburst  or  out-thrust,  the  expression  of  that 
other  desire  which  should  decide  my  fate  in 
this  most  precious  matter.  All  the  old  rebel- 
lion was  gone,  even  as  the  protest  of  a  woman 
goes  on  earth  before  the  progress  of  a  mighty 
love.  I  no  longer  argued  and  explained.  I 
did  not  require  or  insist.  Was  it  possible  that 
I  did  not  even  doubt?  The  mysterious,  celes- 
tial law  of  gravitation  grapjiled  me.  I  could  no 
more  presume  to  understand  it  than  I  could 
withstand  it. 

I  had  not  been  what  is  called  a  submissive 
person.  All  my  life,  obedience  had  torn  me  in 
twain.  Below,  it  had  cost  me  all  I  had  to  give, 
to  cultivate  what  believers  called  trust  in  God. 

I  had  indeed  tried,  in  a  desj^erate  and  faulty 
fashion,  but  I  had  often  been  bitterly  ashamed 
at  the  best  result  which  I  could  achieve,  feel- 
ing that  I  scarcely  deserved  to  count  myself 
among  His  children,  or  to  call  myself  by  the 
Name  which  represented  the  absolute  obedience 
of  the  strongest  nature  that  human  history  had 


BEYOND  TEE  GATES.  61 

known.  Always,  under  all,  I  had  doubted 
whether  I  accepted  God's  will  because  I 
wanted  to,  so  much  as  because  I  had  to.  This 
fear  had  given  me  much  pain,  but  being  of  an 
active  temperament,  far,  perhaps  too  far,  re- 
moved from  mysticism,  I  had  gone  on  to  the 
next  fight,  or  the  next  duty,  without  settling 
my  difficulties ;  and  so  like  others  of  my  sort, 
battled  along  through  life,  as  best  or  as  worst 
I  might.  I  had  always  hurried  more  than  I 
had  grown.  To  be  sure,  I  was  not  altogether 
to  blame  for  this,  since  circumstances  had 
driven  me  fast,  and  I  had  yielded  to  them  not 
always  for  my  own  sake ;  but  clearly,  it  may 
be  as  much  of  a  misfortime  to  be  too  busy,  as 
to  be  idle  ;  and  one  whose  subtlest  effects  are 
latest  perceived.  I  could  now  understand  it  to 
be  reasonable,  that  if  I  had  taken  more  time 
on  earth  to  cultivate  myself  for  the  conditions 
of  Heaven,  I  might  have  had  a  different  ex- 
perience at  the  outset  of  this  life,  in  which  one 
was  never  in  a  hurry. 

My  father  returned  from  his  somewhat  pro- 
tracted absence,  while  I  was  thinking  of  these 


62  BEYOND   THE  GATES. 

things  thus  quietly.  My  calmer  mood  went 
out  to  meet  his  face,  from  which  I  saw  at  once 
what  was  the  result  of  his  errand,  and  so  a 
gentle  process  prepared  me  for  my  disappoint- 
ment when  he  said  that  it  was  not  Willed  that 
I  should  go  to  her  at  this  immediate  time. 
He  advised  me  to  rest  awhile  before  taking 
the  journey,  and  to  seek  this  rest  at  once.  No 
reasons  were  given  for  this  command ;  yet 
strangely,  I  felt  it  to  be  the  most  reasonable 
thing  in  the  world. 

No ;  blessedly  no !  I  did  not  argue,  or  pro- 
test, I  did  not  dash  out  my  wild  wish,  I  did 
not  ask  or  answei^  anything  —  how  wonderful ! 

Had  I  needed  proof  any  longer  that  I  was 
dead  and  in  Heaven,  this  marvelous  adjust- 
ment of  my  will  to  that  other  would  in  itself 
have  told  me  what  and  where  I  was. 

I  cannot  say  that  this  process  took  place 
without  effort.  I  found  a  certain  magnificent 
effort  in  it,  like  that  involved  in  the  free  use  of 
my  muscles ;  but  it  took  place  without  pain. 
I  did  indeed  ask,  —  ^ 

"WiUitbelong?" 


BEYOND  THE  GATES.  63 

"Not  long." 

"  That  is  kind  in  Him  I "  I  remember  say- 
ing, as  we  moved  away.  For  now,  I  found 
that  I  thought  first  rather  of  what  He  gave 
than  of  what  He  denied.  It  seemed  to  me 
that  I  had  acquired  a  new  instinct.  JVIy  being 
was  larger  by  the  acquisition  of  a  fresh  power. 
I  felt  a  little  as  I  used  to  do  below,  when  I 
had  conquered  a  new  language. 

I  had  met,  and  by  his  loving  mercy  I  had 
mastered,  my  first  trial  in  the  eternal  life. 
This  was  to  be  remembered.  It  was  like  the 
shifting  of  a  plate  upon  a  camera. 

More  wearied  than  I  had  ^thought  by  the 
effort,  I  was  glad  to  sink  down  beneath  the 
trees  in  a  nook  my  father  showed  me,  and 
yield  to  the  drowsiness  that  stole  upon  me 
after  the  gTcat  excitement  of  the  day.  It  was 
not  yet  dark,  but  I  was  indeed  tired.  A  sin- 
gular subsidence,  not  like  our  twilight,  but  still 
reminding  one  of  it,  had  fallen  upon  the  vivid 
color  of  the  air.  No  one  was  passing ;  the 
spot  was  secluded ;  my  father  bade  me  fare- 
well for  the  present,  saying  that  he  should  re- 
turn again ;  and  I  was  left  alone. 


64  BEYOND   THE  GATES. 

The  grass  was  softer  than  eider  of  the 
lower  world;  and  lighter  than  snow-flakes, 
the  leaves  that  fell  from  low-hanging  boughs 
about  me.  Distantly,  I  heard  moving  water ; 
and  more  near,  sleepy  birds.  More  distant 
yet,  I  caught,  and  lost,  and  caught  again, 
fragments  of  orchestral  music.  I  felt  infinite 
secui'ity.  I  had  the  blessedness  of  weariness 
that  knew  it  could  not  miss  of  sleep.  Dreams 
stole  upon  me  with  motion  and  touch  so  ex- 
quisite that  I  thought :  "  Sleep  itself  is  a  new 
joy ;  what  we  had  below  was  only  a  hint  of 
the  real  thing,"  as  I  sank  into  deep  and 
deeper  rest. 

Do  not  think  that  I  forgot  my  love  and 
longing  to  be  elsewhere.  I  think  the  wish  to 
see  her  and  to  comfort  her  grew  clearer  every 
moment.  But  stronger  still,  like  a  comrade 
marching  beside  it,  I  felt  the  pacing  of  that 
great  desire  which  had  become  dearer  than 
my  own. 


V. 

When  I  waked,  I  was  still  alone.  There 
seemed  to  have  been  showers,  for  the  leaves 
and  grass  about  me  were  wet ;  yet  I  felt  no 
chill  or  dampness,  or  any  kind  of  injury  from 
this  fact.  Rather  I  had  a  <3ertain  refreshment, 
as  if  my  sleeping  senses  had  drunk  of  the  peace 
and  power  of  the  dew  that  flashed  far  and 
near  about  me.  The  intense  excitement  under 
which  I  had  labored  since  coming  to  this  place 
was  calmed.  All  the  fevers  of  feeling  were 
laid.  I  could  not  have  said  whether  there  had 
been  what  below  we  called  night,  or  how  the 
passage  of  time  had  marked  itself ;  I  only 
knew  that  I  had  experienced  the  recuperation 
of  night,  and  that  I  sprang  to  the  next  duty 
or  delight  of  existence  with  the  vigor  of  re-, 
curring  day. 

As  I  rose  from  the  grass,  I  noticed  a  four- 
leaved  clover,  and  remembering  the  pretty  lit- 


Q6  BEYOND  TEE   GATES. 

tie  superstition  we  used  to  have  about  it,  I 
plucked  it,  and  held  it  to  my  face,  and  so 
learned  that  the  rain-drop  in  this  new  land  had 
perfume  ;  an  exquisite  scent ;  as  if  into  the  es- 
sence of  brown  earth  and  spicy  roots,  and  aro- 
matic green  things,  such  as  summer  rain  distills 
with  us  from  out  a  fresh-washed  world,  there 
were  mingled  an  inconceivable  odor  drawn  out 
of  the  heart  of  the  sky.  Metaphysicians  used 
to  teU  us  that  no  man  ever  imagined  a  new 
perfume,  even  in  his  dreams.  I  could  see  that 
they  were  right,  for  anything  like  the  perfume 
of  clover  after  a  rain  in  Heaven,  had  never 
entered  into  my  sense  or  soid  before.  I  saved 
the  clover  "  for  good  luck,"  as  I  used  to  do. 

Overhead  there  was  a  marvel.  There  seemed 
to  have  been  clouds  —  their  passing  and  break- 
ing, and  flitting  —  and  now,  behold  the  heavens 
themselves,  bared  of  all  their  storm -drapery, 
had  drawn  across  their  dazzling  forms  a  veil 
of  glory.  From  what,  for  want  of  better 
knowledge,  I  still  called  East  to  West,  and 
North  to  South,  one  supernal  prism  swept. 
The  whole  canopy  of  the  sky  was  a  rainbow. 


BEYOND   THE   GATES.  67 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  this  sight  in  any 
earthly  tongue,  to  any  dwellers  of  the  earth.  I 
stood  beneath  it,  as  a  drop  stands  beneath  the 
ocean.  For  a  time  I  could  only  feel  the  surge 
of  beauty  —  mere  beauty  —  roll  above  me. 
Then,  I  think,  as  the  dew  had  fallen  from  the 
leaf,  so  I  sunk  upon  my  knees.  I  prayed  be- 
cause it  was  natural  to  pray,  and  felt  God  in 
my  sold  as  the  prism  feels  the  primary  color, 
while  I  thanked  Him  that  I  was  immortally 
alive.  It  had  never  been  like  this  before,  to 
pray ;  nay,  prayer  itself  was  now  one  of  the 
discoveries  of  Heaven.  It  throbbed  through 
me  like  the  beat  of  a  new  heart.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  He  must  be  very  near  me.  Almost  it 
was,  as  if  He  and  I  were  alone  together  in  the 
Universe.  For  the  first  time,  the  passionate 
wish  to  be  taken  into  His  very  visible  presence, 

—  that  intense  desire  which  I  had  heard  of, 
as  overpowering  so  many  of  the  newly  dead, 

—  began  to  take  possession  of  me.  But  I 
put  it  aside,  since  it  was  not  permitted,  and 
a  consciousness  of  my  unfitness  came  to  me, 
that    made    the  wish  itself  seem  a  kind  of 


68  BEYOND   THE  GATES. 

mistake.  I  think  this  feeling  was  not  unlike 
what  we  called  below  a  sense  of  sin.  I  did 
not  give  it  that  name  at  that  time.  It  had 
come  to  me  so  naturally  and  gradually,  that 
there  was  no  strain  or  pain  about  it.  Yet  when 
I  had  it,  I  could  no  longer  conceive  of  being 
without  it.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  was  a 
stronger  and  wiser  woman  for  it.  A  certain 
gentleness  and  humility  different  from  what  I 
had  been  used  to,  in  my  life  of  activity,  where- 
in so  many  depended  on  me,  and  on  the  de- 
cided facidties  of  my  nature,  accompanied  the 
gTowing  sense  of  personal  unworthiness  with 
which  I  entered  on  the  blessedness  of  everlast- 
ing life. 

I  watched  the  rainbow  of  the  sky  till  it  had 
begun  to  fade  —  an  event  in  itself  an  exquisite 
wonder,  for  each  tint  of  the  prism  flashed  out 
and  ran  in  lightning  across  the  heavens  before 
falling  to  its  place  in  the  primary  color,  till 
at  last  the  whole  spectacle  was  resolved  into 
the  three  elements,  the  red,  the  yellow,  and  the 
blue;  which  themselves  moved  on  and  away, 
like  a  conqueror  dismissing  a  pageant. 


BETOND  TEE   GATES.  69 

Wten  this  gorgeous  scene  had  ended,  I 
was  surprised  to  find  that  though  dead  and 
in  Heaven,  I  was  hungry.  I  gathered  fruits 
which  gTew  near,  of  strange  form  and  flavor, 
but  delicious  to  the  taste  past  anything  I  had 
ever  eaten,  and  I  drank  of  the  brook  where 
the  shells  were,  feeling  greatly  invigorated 
thereby.  I  was  beginning  to  wonder  where 
my  father  was,  when  I  saw  him  coming  to- 
wards me.  He  greeted  me  with  his  old  good- 
morning  kiss,  laying  his  hand  upon  my  head  in 
a  benediction  that  filled  my  soul. 

As  we  moved  on  together,  I  asked  him  if  he 
remembered  how  we  used  to  say  below : 

"  What  a  heavenly  day !  " 

Many  people  seemed  to  be  passing  on  the 
road  which  we  had  chosen,  but  as  we  walked 
on  they  grew  fewer. 

"  There  are  those  who  wish  to  speak  with 
you,"  he  said  with  a  slight  hesitation,  "  but  all 
things  can  wait  here ;  we  learn  to  wait  our- 
selves.    You  are  to  go  to  your  mother  now." 

"And  not  wdth  you?"  I  asked,  having  a 
certain  fear  of  the  mystery  of  my  undertaking. 


70  BEYOND  THE  GATES. 

He  shook  his  head  with  a  look  more  nearly 
like  disappointment  than  anything  I  had  seen 
upon  his  face  in  this  new  life ;  explaining  to 
me,  however,  with  cheerful  acquiescence,  that 
it  was  not  Willed  that  he  should  join  me  on 
my  journey. 

"  Tell  her  that  I  come  shortly,"  he  added, 
"  and  that  I  come  alone.  She  will  understand. 
And  have  no  fear;  you  have  much  to  learn, 
but  it  will  come  syllable  by  syllable." 

Now  swiftly,  at  the  instant  while  he  spoke 
with  me,  I  found  myseK  alone  and  in  a  moun- 
tainous region,  from  which  a  great  outlook 
was  before  me.  I  saw  the  kingdoms  of  heaven 
and  the  glory  of  them,  sj)read  out  before  me 
like  a  map.  A  mist  of  the  colors  of  amethyst 
and  emerald  interfused,  enwrapped  the  out- 
lines of  the  landscape.  All  details  grew 
blurred  and  beautiful  like  a  dream  at  which 
one  snatches  vainly  in  the  morning.  Off,  and 
beyond,  the  infinite  ether  throbbed.  Yonder, 
like  a  speck  upon  a  sunbeam,  swam  the  tiny 
globe  which  we  called  earth.  Stars  and  suns 
flashed  and  faded,  revolving  and  waiting  in 


BEYOND  THE  GATES.  71 

their  places.  Surely  it  was  growing  dark,  for 
they  sprang  out  like  mighty  light-houses  upon 
the  grayness  of  the  void. 

The  splendors  of  the  Southern  cross  streamed 
far  into  the  strange  light,  neither  of  night  nor 
day,  not  of  twilight  or  dawn,  which  surrounded 
me. 

Colored  suns,  of  which  astronomers  had  in- 
deed taught  us,  poured  undreamed-of  light  upon 
unknown  planets.  I  passed  worlds  whose  lu- 
minaries gave  them  scarlet,  green,  and  purple 
days.  "These  too,"  I  thought,  "I  shall  one 
day  visit."  I  flashed  through  currents  of 
awful  color,  and  measures  of  awful  night.  I 
felt  more  than  I  perceived,  and  wondered  more 
than  I  feared.  It  was  some  moments  before  I 
realized,  by  these  few  astronomical  details, 
that  I  was  adrift,  alone  upon  the  mystery  and 
mightiness  of  Space. 

Of  this  strange  and  solitary  journey,  I  can 
speak  so  imperfectly,  that  it  were  better  almost 
to  leave  it  out  of  my  narrative.  Yet,  when  I 
remember  how  I  have  sometimes  heard  those 
still  upon  earth  conceive,  with  the  great  fear 


72  BEYOND    THE   GATES. 

and  ignorance  inseparable  from  earth-trained 
imagination,  of  such  transits  of  the  soul  from 
point  to  point  in  ether,  I  shoidd  be  glad  to  ex- 
press at  least  the  incomplete  impressions  which 
I  received  from  this  experience. 

The  strongest  of  these,  and  the  sweetest, 
was  the  sense  of  safety  —  and  still  the  sense  of 
safety  ;  unassailable,  everlasting  ;  blessed  be- 
yond the  thought  of  an  insecure  life  to  com- 
pass. To  be  dead  was  to  be  dead  to  danger, 
dead  to  fear.  To  be  dead  was  to  be  alive  to 
a  sense  of  assured  good  chance  that  nothing  in 
the  universe  could  shake. 

So  I  felt  no  dread,  believe  me,  though  much 
awe  and  amazement,  as  I  took  my  first  journey 
from  Heaven  to  earth.  I  have  elsewhere  said 
that  the  distance,  by  astronomical  calculation, 
was  in  itself  perhaps  not  enormous.  I  had  an 
impression  that  I  was  crossing  a  great  sphere 
or  penmnbra,  belonging  to  the  earth  itself,  and 
having  a  certain  relation  to  it,  like  the  soul  to 
the  body  of  a  man. 

Was  Heaven  located  within  or  upon  this 
world-soul  ?     The  question  occurred  to  me,  but 


BEYOND   THE   GATES.  73 

up  to  this  time,  I  am  still  unable  to  answer  it. 
The  transit  itself  was  swift  and  subtle  as  a 
thought.  Indeed,  it  seemed  to  me  that  thought 
itself  might  have  been  my  vehicle  of  convey- 
ance ;  or  perhaps  I  should  say,  feeling.  My 
love  and  longing  took  me  up  like  pollen  taken 
by  the  wind.  As  I  approached  the  spot  where 
my  dear  ones  dwelt  and  sorrowed  for  me,  de- 
sire and  speed  both  increased  by  a  mighty  mo- 
mentum. 

Now  I  did  not  find  this  journey  as  difficult 
as  that  other,  when  I  had  departed,  a  freshly- 
freed  soul,  from  earth  to  Heaven.  I  learned 
that  I  was  now  subject  to  other  natural  laws. 
A  celestial  gravitation  controlled  the  celestial 
body,  as  that  of  the  earth  had  compelled  the 
other.  I  was  upborne  in  space  by  this  new 
and  mysterious  influence.  Yet  there  was  no 
dispute  between  it  and  the  other  law,  the  eter- 
nal law  of  love,  which  drew  me  down.  Be- 
tween soul  and  body,  in  the  heavenly  exist- 
ence, there  could  be  no  more  conflict  than 
between  light  and  an  ether  wave. 

I  do  not  say  that  I  performed  this  journey 


74  BEYOND  THE   GATES. 

without  effort  or  intelligence.  The  little  knowl- 
edge I  ever  had  was  taxed  in  view  of  the  gran- 
deurs and  the  mysteries  around  me.  Shall 
I  be  believed  if  I  say  that  I  recalled  all  the 
astronomy  and  geography  that  my  life  as  a 
teacher  had  left  still  somewhat  freshly  im- 
printed on  the  memory?  that  the  facts  of 
physics  recurred  to  me,  even  in  that  inroad 
of  feeling?  and  that  I  guided  myself  to  the 
Massachusetts  town  as  I  would  have  found  it 
upon  a  globe .  at  school  ?  Already  I  learned 
that  no  acquisition  of  one  life  is  lost  in  the-' 
next.  Already  I  thanked  God  for  everything 
I  knew,  only  wishing,  with  the  passion  of  ig- 
norance newly  revealed  to  itself  by  the  dawn 
of  wisdom,  that  my  poor  human  acquirements 
had  ever  truly  deserved  the  high  name  of 
study,  or  stored  my  thought  with  its  eternal 
results. 


VI. 

As  I  approached  the  scene  of  my  fonnei! 
life,  I  met  many  people.  I  had  struck  a  realm 
of  spirits  who  at  first  perplexed  me.  They 
did  not  look  happy,  and  seemed  possessed  by 
great  unrest.  I  observed  that,  though  they 
fluttered  and  moved  impatiently,  none  rose 
far  above  the  surface  of  the  earth.  Most  of 
them  were  employed  in  one  way  or  another 
upon  it.  Some  bought  and  sold ;  some  eat  and 
drank ;  others  occupied  themselves  in  coarse 
pleasures,  from  which  one  could  but  turn  away 
the  eyes.  There  were  those  who  were  busied 
in  more  refined  ways  :  —  students  with  eyes 
fastened  to  dusty  volumes ;  virtuosos  who  hung 
about  a  picture,  a  statue,  a  tapestry,  that  had 
enslaved  them;  one  musical  creature  I  saw, 
who  ought  to  have  been  of  exquisite  organiza- 
tion, judging  from  his  hands  —  he  played  per- 
petually upon  an  instrument    that    he    could 


76  BEYOND   THE  GATES 

not  tune  ;  women,  I  saw  too,  who  robed  and 
disrobed  without  a  glint  of  pleasure  in  their 
faded  faces. 

There  were  ruder  souls  than  any  of  these  — 
but  one  sought  for  them  in  the  dens  of  the 
earth;  their  dead  hands  still  were  red  with 
stains  of  blood,  and  in  their  dead  hearts  reigned 
the  remnants  of  hideous  passions. 

Of  all  these  appearances,  which  I  still  found 
it  nataral  to  call  phenomena  as  I  should  once 
have  done,  it  will  be  remembered  that  I  re- 
ceived the  temporary"  and  imperfect  impression 
of  a  person  passing  swiftly  through  a  crowd, 
so  that  I  do  not  wish  my  account  to  be  ac- 
cepted for  anything  more  trustworthy  than 
it  is. 

While  I  was  wondering  gTcatly  what  it 
meant,  some  one  joined  and  spoke  to  me  fa- 
miliarly, and,  turning,  I  saw  it  to  be  that 
old  neighbor,  Mrs.  Mersey,  to  whom  I  have 
alluded,  who,  like  myself,  seemed  to  be  bent 
upon  an  errand,  and  to  be  but  a  visitor  upon 
the  earth.  She  was  a  most  lovely  spirit,  as 
she  had  always  been,  and  I  grasped  her  hand 


BEYOND    THE   GATES.  77 

cordially  while  we  swept  on  rapidly  together 
to  our  journey's  end. 

"Do  tell  me,"  I  whispered,  as  soon  as  I 
could  draw  her  near  enough,  "  who  all  these 
people  are,  and  what  it  means.  I  fear  to 
guess.  And  yet  indeed  they  seem  like  the 
dead  who  cannot  get  away." 

*'  Alas,"  she  sighed,  "  you  have  said  it. 
They  loved  nothing,  they  lived  for  nothing, 
they  believed  in  nothing,  they  cultivated 
themselves  for  nothing  but  the  earth,  l  They 
simply  lack  the  spiritual  momentum  to  get 
away  from  itO  -It  is  as  much  the  working  of  a 
natural  law  as  the  progress  of  a  fever.  Many 
of  my  duties  have  been  among  such  as  these. 
I  know  them  well.  They  need  time  and  tact 
in  treatment,  and  oh,  the  greatest  patience ! 
At  first  it  discouraged  me,  but  I  am  learning 
the  enthusiasm  of  my  work." 

"  These,  then,"  I  said,  "  were  those  I  saw  in 
that  first  hour,  when  my  father  led  me  out  of 
the  house,  and  through  the  street.  I  saw  you 
among  them,  Mrs.  Mersey,  but  I  knew  even 
then  that  you  were  not  of  them.     But  surely 


78  BEYOND   THE   GATES. 

they  do  not  stay  forever  prisoners  of  the  earth  ? 
Surely  such  a  blot  on  the  face  of  spiritual  life 
cannot  but  fade  away?  I  am  a  new-comer. 
I  am  still  quite  ignorant,  you  see.  But  I  do 
not  understand,  any  more  than  I  did  before, 
how  that  could  be." 

"  They  have  their  choice,"  she  answered 
vaguely.  But  when  I  saw  the  high  solemnity 
of  her  aspect,  I  feared  to  press  my  questions. 
I  could  not,  however,  or  I  did  not  forbear  say- 
ing : — 

"  At  least  you  must  have  already  persuaded 
many  to  sever  themselves  from  such  a  condi- 
tion as  this  ?  " 

"  Already  some,  I  hope,"  she  replied  eva- 
sively, as  she  moved  away.  She  always  had 
remarkably  fine  manners,  of  which  death  had 
by  no  means  deprived  her.  I  admired  her 
gi'aciousness  and  dignity  as  she  passed  from 
my  side  to  that  of  one  we  met,  who,  in  a  de- 
jected voice,  called  her  by  her  name,  and  in- 
timated that  he  wished  to  speak  with  her.  He 
was  a  pale  and  restless  youth,  and  I  thought, 
but  was  not  sure,  for  we  separated  so  quickly, 


BEYOND    THE   GATES.  79 

that  it  was  the  little  fellow  I  spoke  of,  Bobby 
Bend.  I  looked  back,  after  I  had  advanced 
some  distance  on  my  way,  and  saw  the  two 
together,  conversing  earnestly.  While  I  was 
still  watching  them,  it  seemed  to  me,  though  I 
cannot  be  positive  upon  this  point,  that  they 
had  changed  their  course,  and  were  quietly 
ascending,  she  leading,  he  following,  above  the 
dismal  sphere  in  which  she  found  the  lad,  and 
that  his  heavy,  awkward,  downward  motions 
became  freer,  struggling  upward,  as  I  gazed. 

I  had  now  come  to  the  location  of  my  old 
home,  and,  as  I  passed  through  the  familiar 
village  streets,  I  saw  that  night  was  coming 
on.  I  met  many  whom  I  knew,  both  of  those 
called  dead  and  living.  The  former  recog- 
nized me,  but  the  latter  saw  me  not.  No  one 
detained  me,  hov/ever,  for  I  felt  in  haste  which 
I  could  not  conceal. 

With  high-beating  heart,  I  approached  the 
dear  old  house.  No  one  was  astir.  As  I 
turned  the  handle  of  the  door,  a  s6ft,  sickening 
touch  crawled  around  my  wrist ;  recoiling,  *I 
found  that  I  was  entwisted  in  a  piece  of  crape 
that  the  wind  had  blown  ag-ainst  me. 


80  BEYOND   THE  GATES. 

I  went  in  softly ;  but  I  might  have  spared 
myself  the  pains.  No  one  heard  me,  though 
the  heavy  door  creaked,  I  thought,  as  emphat- 
ically as  it  always  had  —  loudest  when  we  were 
out  latest,  and  longest  when  we  shut  it  quick- 
est. I  went  into  the  parlor  and  stood,  for  a 
moment,  uncertain  what  to  do. 

Alice  was  there,  and  my  married  sister 
Jane,  with  her  husband  and  little  boy.  They 
sat  about  the  fire,  conversing  sadly.  Alice's 
pretty  eyes  were  disfigured  with  crying.  They 
spoke  constantly  of  me.  Alice  was  relating  to 
Jane  and  her  family  the  particulars  of  my  ill- 
ness. I  was  touched  to  hear  her  call  me  "  jDa- 
tient  and  sweet ;  "  —  none  the  less  because  she 
had  often  told  me  I  was  the  most  impatient 
member  of  the  family. 

No  one  had  observed  my  entrance.  Of 
course  I  was  prepared  for  this,  but  I  cannot 
tell  why  I  should  have  felt  it,  as  I  certainly 
did.  A  low  bamboo  chair,  cushioned  with 
green  cretonne,  stood  by  the  table.  I  had  a 
fancy  for  this  chair,  and,  pleased  that  they  had 
left  it  unoccupied,  advanced  and  took  it,  in  the 


BEYOND    THE  GATES.  81 

old  way.  It  was  with  something  almost  like  a 
shock,  that  I  fomid  myself  unnoticed  in  the 
very  centre  of  their  group. 

While  I  sat  there,  Jane  moved  to  fix  the 
fire,  and,  in  returning,  made  as  if  she  would 
take  the  bamboo  chair. 

"  Oh,  don't !  "  said  Alice,  sobbing  freshly. 
Jane's  own  tears  sprang,  and  she  turned  away. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  my  brother-in-law, 
looking  about  with  the  patient  grimace  of  a 
business  man  compelled  to  waste  time  at  a 
funeral,  "  that  there  has  a  cold  draught  come 
into  this  room  from  somewhere.  Nobody  has 
left  the  front  door  open,  I  hope  ?  I  '11  go  and 
see." 

He  went,  glad  of  the  excuse  to  stir  about, 
poor  fellow,  and  I  presume  he  took  a  com- 
fortable smoke  outside. 

The  little  boy  started  after  his  father,  but 
was  bidden  back,  and  crawled  up  into  the  chair 
where  I  was  sitting.  I  took  the  child  upon 
my  lap,  and  let  him  stay.  No  one  removed 
him,  he  grew  so  quiet,  and  he  was  soon  asleep 
in  my  arms.     This  pleased  me  ;    but  I  coidd 


82  BEYOND    TEE    GATES. 

not  be  contented  long,  so  I  kissed  the  boy  and 
put  him  down.  He  cried  bitterly,  and  ran 
to  his  mother  for  comfort. 

While  they  were  occupied  with  him,  I  stole 
away.  I  thought  I  knew  where  Mother  would 
be,  and  was  ashamed  of  myself  at  the  reluc- 
tance I  certainly  had  to  enter  my  own  room, 
under  these  exciting  circumstances. 

Conquering  this  timidity,  as  unwomanly  and 
unworthy,  I  went  up  and  opened  the  familiar 
door.  I  had  begun  to  learn  that  neither  sound 
nor  sight  followed  my  motions  now,  so  that  I 
dvas  not  surprised  at  attracting  no  attention 
from  the  lonely  occupant  of  the  room.  I  closed 
the  door  —  from  long  habit  I  still  made  an 
effort  to  turn  the  latch  softly  —  and  resolutely 
examined  what  I  saw. 

My  mother  was  there,  as  I  had  expected. 
The  room  was  cold  —  there  was  no  fire,  —  and 
she  had  on  her  heavy  blanket  shawl.  The  gas 
was  lighted,  and  one  of  my  red  candles,  but 
both  burned  dimly.  The  poor  woman's  ma- 
genta geranium  had  frozen.  My  mother  sat 
in  the  red  easy-chair,  which,  being  a  huge,  old- 


BEYOND   THE  GATES.  83 

fashioned  thing,  surrountlecl  and  shielded  her 
from  the  draught.  My  clotlies,  and  medicines, 
and  all  the  little  signs  of  sickness  had  been 
removed.  The  room  was  swept,  and  orderly. 
Above  the  bed,  the  pictures  and  the  carved 
cross  looked  down. 

Below  them,  calm  as  sleep,  and  cold  as 
frost,  and  terrible  as  silence,  lay  that  which 
had  been  I. 

She  did  not  shrink.  She  was  sitting  close 
beside  it.  She  gazed  at  it  with  the  tenderness 
which  death  itself  could  not  affright.  Mother 
was  not  crying.  She  did  not  look  as  if  she 
had  shed  tears  for  a  long  time.  But  her  wan- 
ness and  the  drawn  lines  about  her  mouth 
were  hard  to  see.  Her  aged  hands  trembled 
as  she  cut  the  locks  of  hair  from  the  neck  of 
the  dead.  She  was  growing  to  be  an  old 
woman.  And  I  —  her  first-born  —  I  had  been 
her  staff  of  life,  and  on  me  she  had  thought  to 
lean  in  her  widowed  age.  She  seemed  to  me 
to  have  grown  feeble  fast  in  the  time  since  I 
had  left  her. 

All  my  soul  rushed  to  my  lips,  and  I  cried 


84  BEYOND    THE   GATES. 

out  —  it  seemed  that  either  the  dead  or  the 
living  must  hear  that  cry  — 

"  Mother !     Oh,  my  dear  mother!  " 

But  deaf  as  life,  she  sat  before  me.  Sho 
had  just  cut  off  the  lock  of  hair  she  wanted ;  as 
I  spoke,  the  curling  ends  of  it  twined  around 
her  fingers  ;  I  tried  to  snatch  it  away,  thinking 
thus  to  arrest  her  attention. 

The  lock  of  hair  trembled,  turned,  and  clung 
the  closer  to  the  living  hand.  She  pressed  it 
to  her  lips  with  the  passion  of  desolation. 

"  But,  Mother,"  I  cried  once  more,  "  I  am 
herey  I  flung  my  arms  about  her  and  kissed 
her  again  and  again.  I  called  and  entreated 
her  by  every  dear  name  that  household  love 
had  taught  us.  I  besought  her  to  turn,  to  see, 
to  hear,  to  believe,  to  be  comforted.  I  told  her 
how  blest  was  I,  how  bountiful  was  death. 

"  I  am  alive,"  I  said.  "  I  am  alive  !  I  see 
you,  I  touch  you,  hear  you,  love  you,  hold 
you !  "  I  tried  argument  and  severity ;  I  tried 
tenderness  and  ridicule. 

She  turned  at  this :  it  seemed  to  me  that  she 
regarded  me.      She  stretched  her  arms  out : 


BEYOND    THE  GATES.  85 

her  aged  hands  groped  to  and  fro  as  if  she  felt 
for  something  and  found  it  not ;  she  shook  her 
head,  her  dim  eyes  gazed  blankly  into  mine. 
She  sighed  patiently,  and  rose  as  if  to  leave  the 
room,  but  hesitated,  —  covered  the  face  of  the 
dead  body  —  caressed  it  once  or  twice  as  if  it 
had  been  a  living  infant  —  and  then,  taking 
up  her  Bible,  which  had  been  upon  the  chair 
beside  her,  dropped  upon  her  knees,  and  hold- 
ing the  book  against  her  sunken  cheek,  aban- 
doned herseK  to  silent  prayer. 

This  was  more  than  I  could  bear  just  then, 
and,  thinking  to  collect  myself  by  a  few  mo- 
ments' solitude,  I  left  her.  But  as  I  stood  in 
the  dark  hall,  uncertain  and  unquiet,  I  noticed 
a  long,  narrow  line  of  light  at  my  feet,  and, 
foUow^ing  it  confusedly,  found  that  it  came 
from  the  crack  in  the  closed,  but  unlatched 
door  of  another  well-remembered  room.  I 
pushed  the  door  open  hurriedly  and  closed  it 
behind  me. 

My  brother  sat  in  this  room  alone.  His  fire 
was  blazing  cheerfully  and,  flashing,  revealed 
the    deer's-head    from   the   Adirondacks,  the 


86  BEYOND    THE   GATES. 

stuffed  rose-curlew  from  Florida,  the  gull's  wing 
from  Cape  Ann,  tlie  gun  and  rifle  and  bamboo 
fish-pole,  the  class  photographs  over  the  man- 
tel, the  feminine  features  on  porcelain  in  vel- 
vet frames,  all  the  little  trappings  with  which 
I  was  familiar.  Tom  had  been  trying  to  study, 
but  his  Homer  lay  pushed  away,  with  crumpled 
leaves,  upon  the  table.  Buried  in  his  lexicon 
—  one  strong  elbow  intervening  —  down,  like 
a  hero  thrown,  the  boy's  face  had  gone. 

"  Tom,"  I  said  quietly  —  I  always  spoke 
quietly  to  Tom,  who  had  a  constitutional  fear 
of  what  he  called  "  emotions  "  —  "  Tom,  you  'd 
better  be  studying  your  Greek.  I  'd  much 
rather  see  you.     Come,  I  '11  help  you." 

He  did  not  move,  poor  fellow,  and  as  I  came 
nearer,  I  saw,  to  my  heart-break,  that  our  Tom 
was  crying.  Sobs  shook  his  huge  frame,  and 
down  between  the  iron  fingers,  toughened  by 
base-ball  matches,  tears  had  streamed  upon  the 
pages  of  the  Odyssey. 

"  Tom,  Tom,  old  fellow,  dont !  "  I  cried, 
and,  hungry  as  love,  I  took  the  boy.  I  got 
upon  the  arm  of  the  smoking  chair,  as  I  used 


BEYOND   THE   GATES.  87 

to,  and  so  had  my  hands  about  his  neck,  and 
my  cheek  upon  his  curly  hair,  and  would 
have  soothed  him^  Indeed,  he  did  grow  calm, 
and  calmer,  as  if  he  yielded  to  my  touch  ;  and 
presently  he  lifted  his  wet  face,  and  looked 
about  the  room,  half  ashamed,  half  defiant,  as 
if  to  ask  who  saw  that. 

"  Come,  Tom,"  I  tried  again.  "  It  really 
is  n't  so* bad  as  you  think.  And  there  is  Moth- 
er catching  cold  in  that  room.  Go  and  get  her 
away  from  the  body.  It  is  no  place  for  her. 
She  '11  get  sick.  Nobody  can  manage  her  as 
well  as  you." 

As  if  he  heard  me,  he  arose.  As  if  he  knew 
me,  he  looked  for  the  flashing  of  an  instant 
into  my  eyes. 

"  I  don't  see  how  a  girl  of  her  sense  can  be 
dcad^''  said  the  boy  aloud.  He  stretched  his 
arms  once  above  his  head,  and  out  into  the 
bright,  empty  room,  and  I  heard  him  groan  in 
a  way  that  wrung  my  heart.  I  went  impul- 
sively to  him,  and  as  his  arms  closed,  they 
closed  about  me  strongly.  He  stood  for  a  mo- 
ment quite  still.  I  could  feel  the  nervous  strain 
subsiding  all  over  his  big  soul  and  body. 


88  BEYOND    THE    GATES. 

"  Hush,"  I  whispered.  "  I  'm  no  more  dead 
than  you  are." 

If  he  heard,  what  he  felt,  God  knows.  I 
speak  of  a  mystery.  No  optical  illusion,  no 
tactual  hallucination  could  hold  the  boy  who 
took  all  the  medals  at  the  gymnasium.  The 
hearty,  healthy  fellow  could  receive  no  abnormal 
sign  from  the  love  and  longing  of  the  dead.  Only 
spirit  unto  spirit  could  attempt  that  strange 
out-reaching.  Spirit  unto  spirit,  was  it  done  ? 
Still,  I  relate  a  mystery,  and  what  shall  I  say  ? 
His  professor  in  the  class-room  of  metaphysics 
would  teach  him  next  week  that  grief  owns  the 
law  of  the  rhythm  of  motion ;  and  that  at  the 
oscillation  of  the  pendulum  the  excitement  of 
anguish  shall  subside  into  apathy  which  mourn- 
ers alike  treat  as  a  disloyalty  to  the  dead,  and 
court  as  a  nervous  relief  to  the  living. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  the  boy  grew  suddenly 
calm,  and  even  cheerful,  and  followed  me  at 
once.  I  led  him  directly  to  his  mother,  and 
left  them  for  a  time  alone  together. 

After  this  my  own  calm,  because  my  own 
confidence,    increased.      My   dreary  sense   of 


BEYOND    THE  GATES.  89 

helplessness  before  the  suffering  ot  those  I 
loved,  gave  place  to  the  consciousness  of  power 
to  reach  them.  I  detected  this  power  in  my- 
self in  an  undeveloped  form,  and  realized  that 
it  might  require  exercise  and  culture,  like  all 
other  powers,  if  I  would  make  valuable  use  of 
it.  I  could  already  regard  the  cultivation  of 
the  faculty  which  would  enable  love  to  defy 
death,  and  spirit  to  conquer  matter,  as  likely 
to  be  one  of  the  occupations  of  a  full  life. 

I  went  out  into  the  fresh  air  for  a  time  to 
think  these  thoughts  through  by  myself,  undis- 
turbed by  the  sight  of  grief  that  I  could  not 
remove  ;  and  strolled  up  and  down  the  village 
streets  in  the  frosty  night. 

When  I  returned  to  the  house  they  had  all 
separated  for  the  night,  sadly  seeking  sleep  in 
view  of  the  events  of  the  morrow,  when,  as  I 
had  already  inferred,  the  funeral  would  take 
place. 

I  spent  the  night  among  them,  chiefly  with 
my  mother  and  Tom,  passing  unnoticed  from 
room  to  room,  and  comforting  them  in  such 
ways  as  I  found  possible.    The  boy  had  locked 


90  BEYOND    THE   GATES. 

his  door,  but  after  a  few  trials  I  found  myself 
able  to  pass  the  medium  of  this  resisting  mat- 
ter, and  to  enter  and  depart  according  to  my 
will.  Tom  finished  his  lesson  in  the  Odyssey, 
and  I  sat  by  and  helped  him  when  I  could. 
This  I  found  possible  in  simple  ways,  which 
I  may  explain  farther  at  another  time.  We 
had  often  studied  together,  and  his  mind 
the  more  readily,  therefore,  responded  to  the 
influence  of  my  own.  He  was  soon  well  asleep, 
and  I  was  free  to  give  all  my  attention  to  my 
poor  mother.  Of  those  long  and  solemn  hours, 
what  shall  I  say  ?  I  thought  she  would  never, 
never  rest.  I  held  her  in  these  arms  the  live- 
long night.  With  these  hands  I  caressed  and 
calmed  her.  With  these  lips  I  kissed  her. 
With  this  breath  I  warmed  her  cold  brow  and 
fingers.  With  all  my  soul  and  body  I  willed 
that  I  would  comfort  her,  and  I  believe,  thank 
God,  I  did.  At  dawn  she  slept  peacefully ; 
she  slept  late,  and  rose  refreshed.  I  remained 
closely  by  her  throughout  the  day. 

They  did  their  best,  let  me  say,  to  provide 
me  with  a  Christian  funeral,  partly  in  accor- 


BEYOND    THE  GATES.  91 

dance  with  some  wishes  I  had  expressed  in 
writing,  partly  from  the  impulse  of  their  own 
good  sense.  Not  a  curtain  was  drawn  to  dark- 
en the  house  of  death.  The  blessed  winter  sun- 
shine flowed  in  like  the  current  of  a  broad 
stream,  through  low,  wide  windows.  No  ghast- 
ly "funeral  flowers"  filled  the  room;  there  was 
only  a  cluster  of  red  pinks  upon  the  coffin,  and 
the  air  was  sweet  but  not  heavy  with  the  car- 
nation perfume  that  they  knew  I  loved.  My 
dead  body  and  face  they  had  covered  with  a 
deep  red  pall,  just  shaded  off  the  black,  as  dark 
as  darkness  could  be,  and  yet  be  redness.  Not 
a  bell  was  tolled.  Not  a  tear  —  at  least,  I 
mean,  by  those  nearest  me — not  a  tear  was 
shed.  As  the  body  was  carried  from  the  house, 
the  voices  of  unseen  singers  lifted  the  German 
funeral  chant :  — 

"  Go  forth  !  go  on,  with  solemn  song, 
Short  is  the  way  ;  the  rest  is  long  !  " 

At  the  grave  they  sang  :  — 

"  Softly  now  the  light  of  day," 

since  my  mother  had  asked  for  one  of  the  old 


92  BEYOND   THE  GATES. 

hymns ;  and  besides  the  usual  Scriptural  Burial 
Service,  a  friend,  who  was  dear  to  me,  read  Mrs. 
Browning's  "  Sleep." 

It  was  all  as  I  would  have  had  it,  and  I 
looked  on  peacefully.  If  I  could  have  spoken 
I  would  have  said :  "  You  have  buried  me 
cheerfully,  as  Christians  ought,  as  a  Christian 
ought  to  be." 

I  was  greatly  touched,  I  must  admit,  at  the 
grief  of  some  of  the  poor,  plain  people  who  fol- 
lowed my  body  on  its  final  journey  to  the  vil- 
lage church-yard.  The  woman  who  sent  the 
magenta  geranium  refused  to  be  comforted, 
and  there  were  one  or  two  young  girls  whom  I 
had  been  so  fortunate  as  to  assist  in  difficul- 
ties, who,  I  think,  did  truly  mourn.  Some  of 
my  boys  from  the  Grand  Army  were  there,  too, 
—  some,  I  mean,  whom  it  had  been  my  privi- 
lege to  care  for  in  the  hospitals  in  the  old  war 
days.  They  came  in  uniform,  and  held  their 
caps  before  their  eyes.  It  did  please  me  to  see 
them  there. 

When  the  brief  service  at  the  grave  was 
over,  I  would  have  gone  home  with  my  mother, 


BEYOND    THE  GATES.  93 

feeling  tliat  she  needed  me  more  than  ever ; 
but  as  I  turned  to  do  so,  I  was  approached  by 
a  spirit  whose  presence  I  had  not  observed. 
It  proved  to  be  my  father.  He  detained  me, 
explaining  that  I  should  remain  whei'e  I  was, 
feeling  no  fear,  but  making  no  protest,  till  the 
Will  governing  my  next  movement  might  be 
made  known  to  me.  So  I  bade  my  mother 
good-by,  and  Tom,  as  well  as  I  could  in  the 
surprise  and  confusion,  and  watched  them 
all  as  they  went  away.  She,  as  she  walked, 
seemed  to  those  about  her  to  be  leaning  only 
upon  her  son.  But  I  beheld  my  father  ten- 
derly hastening  close  beside  her,  while  he  sup- 
ported her  with  the  arm  which  had  never  failed 
her  yet,  in  all  their  loving  lives.  Therefore  I 
could  let  her  go,  without  distress. 

The  funeral  procession  departed  slowly ;  the 
grave  was  filled;  one  of  the  mill-girls  came 
back  and  threw  in  some  arbor  vitae  and  a 
flower  or  two,  —  the  sexton  hurried  her,  and 
both  went  away.  It  grew  dusk,  dark.  I  and 
my  body  were  left  alone  together. 

Of  that  solemn  watch,. it  is  not  for  me  to 


94  BEYOND   THE   GATES. 

chatter  to  any  other  soul.  Memories  over- 
swept  me,  which  only  we  two  could  share. 
HojDes  possessed  me  which  it  were  not  possible 
to  explain  to  another  organization.  Regret, 
resolve,  awe,  and  joy,  every  high  human  emo- 
tion excepting  fear,  battled  about  us.  While 
I  knelt  there  in  the  windless  night,  I  heard 
chanting  from  a  long  distance,  but  yet  distinct 
to  the  dead,  that  is  to  the  living  ear.  As  I 
listened,  the  sound  deepened,  approaching, 
and  a  group  of  singing  spirits  swept  by  in 
the  starlit  air,  poised  like  birds,  or  thoughts, 
above  me : 

"/i5  is  soiori  a  natural  —  it  is  raised  a  spir- 
itual hody.^^ 

'■'•Death!  where  is  thy  sting  f — Grave/ 
—  thy  victory  f  " 

"  Believing  in  Me.,  though  he  were  dead,  yet 
shall  he  live." 

I  tried  my  voice,  and  joined,  for  I  could  no 
longer  help  it,  in  the  thrilling  chorus.  It  was 
the  first  time  since  I  died,  that  I  had  felt  my- 
self invited  or  inclined  to  share  the  occupa- 
tions of  others,  in  the  life  I  had  entered. 


BEYOND   THE  GATES.  95 

Kneeling  there,  in  the  happy  night,  by  my 
own  grave,  I  lifted  all  my  soul  and  sense  into 
the  immortal  words,  now  for  the  first  time 
comprehensible  to  me :  v 

"  /  believe,  I  believe  in  the  resurrection  of  J 
the  dead." 

It  was  not  long  thereafter  that  I  received 
the  summons  to  return.  I  should  have  been 
glad  to  go  home  once  more,  but  was  able  to 
check  my  own  preference  without  wilful  pro- 
test, or  an  aching  heart.  The  conviction  that 
all  was  well  with  my  darlings  and  myseK,  for 
life  and  for  death,  had  now  become  an  intense 
yet  simple  thing,  like  consciousness  itself. 

I  went  as,  and  where  I  was  bidden,  joyfully. 


VII. 

Upon  reentering  the  wonderful  place  which 
I  had  begun  to  call  Heaven,  and  to  which  I 
still  give  that  name,  though  not,  1  must  sayj 
with  perfect  assurance  that  the  word  is  prop- 
erly applied  to  that  phase  of  the  life  of  which 
I  am  the  yet  most  ignorant  recorder,  I  found 
myself  more  weary  than  I  had  been  at  any 
time  since  my  change  came.  I  was  looking 
about,  uncertain  where  to  go,  feeling,  for  the 
first  time,  rather  homeless  in  this  new  country, 
when  I  was  approached  by  a  stranger,  who  in- 
quired of  me  what  I  sought : 

"  Rest,"  I  said  promptly. 

"  A  familiar  quest,"  observed  the  stranger, 
smiling. 

"  You  are  right,  sir.  It  is  a  thing  I  have 
been  seeking  for  forty  years." 

"  And  never  found?  " 

"  Never  found." 


BEYOND   THE  GATES.  97 

"  I  will  assist  you,"  he  said  gently,  "  that  is, 
if  you  wish  it.     What  will  you  have  first?  " 

"  Sleep,  I  think,  first,  then  food.  I  have 
been  through  exciting  scenes.  I  have  a  touch 
—  a  faint  one  —  of  what  below  we  called  ex- 
haustion. Yet  now  I  am  conscious  in  advance 
of  the  rest  which  is  sure  to  come.  Ali*eady  I 
feel  it,  like  the  ebbing  of  the  wave  that  goes 
to  form  the  flow  of  the  next.  How  blessed  to 
know  that  one  cant  be  ill !  " 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?  "  asked  my  com- 
panion. 

"  On  the  whole,  I  don't  know  that  I  do,"  I 
answered,  with  embarrassment,  "  I  suppose  it 
is  a  remnant  of  one's  old  religious  teaching : 
'The  inhabitant  shall  not  say  I  am  sick.' 
Surely  there  were  such  words." 

"  And  you  trusted  them  ?  "  asked  the  stran- 
ger. 

"  The  Bible  was  a  hard  book  to  accept,"  I 
said  quickly,  "  I  would  not  have  you  overesti- 
mate my  faith.  I  tried  to  believe  that  it  was 
God's  message.  I  tliink  I  did  believe  it.  But 
the  reason  was  clear  to  me.  I  could  not  get 
past  that  if  I  wished  to." 


98  BEYOND   THE  GATES. 

"  What,  the  Ji,  was  the  reason,"  inquired  my 
friend,   solenixJy,  "why  you  trusted  the  mes-, 
sage  called  the  Word  of  God,  as  received  by 
the  believing  among  His  children  on  earth  ?  " 

"  Surely,"  I  urged,  "  there  is  but  one  reason. 
I  refer  to  the  history  of  our  Lord.  I  do  not 
know  whether  all  in  this  place  are  Christians  ; 
but  I  was  one.  —  Sir !  I  anticipate  your  ques- 
tion. I  was  a  most  imperfect,  useless  one  — 
to  my  sorrow  and  my  shame  I  say  it  —  but,  so 
far  as  I  went,  I  was  an  honest  one." 

"  Did  you  love  Him  ?  —  Him  whom  you 
called  Lord  ?  "  asked  the  stranger,  with  an  air 
of  reserve.  I  replied  that  I  thought  I  coidd 
truly  say  that  He  was  dear  to  me. 

I  began  to  be  deeply  moved  by  this  conver- 
sation. I  stole  a  look  at  the  stranger,  whom 
'  I  had  at  first  scarcely  noticed,  except  as  one 
among  many  passing  souls.  He  was  a  man  of 
surpassing  majesty  of  mien,  and  for  loveliness 
of  feature  I  had  seen  no  mortal  to  vie  with 
him.  "This,"  I  thought,  "must  be  one  of  the 
beings  we  called  angels."  Astonishing  bright- 
ness rayed  from  him  at  every  motion,  and  his 


BEYOND    THE  GATES.  99 

noble  face  was  like  the  sun  itself.  He  moved 
beside  me  like  any  other  spirit,  and  conde- 
scended to  me  so  familiarly,  yet  with  so  unap- 
proachable a  dignity,  that  my  heart  went  out 
to  him  as  breath  upon  the  air.  It  did  not 
occur  to  me  to  ask  him  who  he  was,  or  whither 
he  led  me.  It  was  enough  that  he  led,  and 
I  followed  without  question  or  reply.  We 
walked  and  talked  for  a  long  time  together. 

He  renewed  the  conversation  by  asking  me 
whether  I  had  really  staked  my  immortal  ex- 
istence upon  the  promise  of  that  obscure,  un- 
educated Jew,  twenty  centuries  in  his  grave, 
—  that  plain  man  who  lived  a  fanatic's  life, 
and  died  a  felon's  death,  and  whose  teachings 
had  given  rise  to  such  bigotry  and  error  upon 
the  earth.  I  answered  that  I  had  never  been 
what  is  commonly  called  a  devout  person,  not 
having  a  spiritual  temperament,  but  that  I  had 
not  held  our  Master  responsible  for  the  mis- 
takes of  either  his  friends  or  his  foes,  and  that 
the  greatest  regret  I  had  brought  with  me  into 
Heaven  was  that  I  had  been  so  unworthy  to 
bear  His  blessed  name.     He  next  inquired  of 


100  BEYOND   THE  GATES. 

me,  if  I  truly  believed  that  I  owed  my  entrance 
upon  my  present  life  to  the  interposition  of 
Him  of  whom  we  spoke. 

"Sir,"  I  said,  "you  touch  upon  sacred 
nerves.  I  should  find  it  hard  to  tell  you  how 
utterly  I  believe  that  immortality  is  the  gift  of 
Jesus  Christ  to  the  human  soul." 

"  I  believed  this  on  earth,"  I  added,  "  I  be- 
lieve it  in  Heaven.  I  do  not  hnow  it  yet,  how- 
ever. I  am  a  new-comer ;  I  am  still  very  igno- 
rant. No  one  has  instructed  me.  I  hope  to 
learn  'syllable  by  syllable.'  I  am  impatient 
to  be  taught ;  yet  I  am  patient  to  be  ignorant 
till  I  am  found  worthy  to  learn.  It  may  be, 
that  you,  sir,  who  evidently  are  of  a  higher 
order  of  life  than  ours,  are  sent  to  enlighten 
me?" 

My  companion  smiled,  neither  dissenting 
from,  nor  assenting  to  my  question,  and  only 
asked  me  in  reply,  if  I  had  yet  spoken  with 
the  Lord.  I  said  that  I  had  not  even  seen 
Him ;  nay,  that  I  had  not  even  asked  to  see 
Him.  My  friend  inquired  why  this  was,  and 
I  told  him  frankly  that  it  was  partly  because 


BEYOND   THE  GATES.  101 

I  was  SO  occupied  at  first  —  nay,  most  of  the 
time  until  I  was  called  below. 

"I  had  not  much  room  to  think.  I  was 
taken  from  event  to  event,  like  a  traveler. 
Tliis  matter  that  you  speak  of  seemed  out  of 
place  in  every  way  at  that  time." 

Then  I  went  on  to  say  that  my  remissness 
was  owing  partly  to  a  little  real  seK-distrust, 
because  I  feared  I  was  not  the  kind  of  believer 
to  whom  He  would  feel  quickly  drawn ;  that  I 
felt  afraid  to  propose  such  a  preposterous 
thing  as  being  brought  into  His  presence ; 
that  I  supposed,  when  He  saw  fit  to  reveal 
HimseK  to  me,  I  should  be  summoned  in  some 
orderly  way,  suitable  to  this  celestial  commu- 
nity; that,  in  fact,  though  I  had  cherished 
this  most  sweet  and  solemn  desire,  I  had  not 
mentioned  it"  before,  not  even  to  my  own 
father  who  conducted  me  to  this  place. 

"I  have  not  spoken  of  it,"  I  said,  "to  any 
body  but  to  you." 

The  stranger's  face  wore  a  remarkable  ex- 
pression when  I  said  this,  as  if  I  had  deeply 
gratified  him ;  and  there  glittered  from  his  en- 


102  BETOND   THE  GATES. 

tire  form  and  features  such  brightness  as  wftU- 
nigh  dazzled  me.  It  was  as  if,  where  a  lesser 
being  would  have  spoken,  or  stirred,  he  shone. 
I  felt  as  if  I  conversed  with  him  by  radiance, 
and  that  living  light  had  become  a  vocabulary 
between  us.  I  have  elsewhere  spoken  of  the 
quality  of  reflecting  light  as  marked  among  the 
ordinary  inhabitants  of  this  new  life ;  but  in 
this  case  I  was  aware  of  a  distinction,  due,  I 
thought,  to  the  superior  order  of  existence  to 
which  my  friend  belonged.  He  did  not,  like 
the  others,  reflect ;  he  radiated  glory.  More 
and  more,  as  we  had  converse  together,  this 
impressed,  until  it  awed  me.  We  remained 
together  for  a  long  time.  People  who  met  us, 
greeted  the  angel  with  marked  reverence,  and 
turned  upon  me  glances  of  sympathetic  delight ; 
but  no  one  interrupted  us.  We  continued  our 
walk  into  a  more  retired  place,  by  the  shore  of 
a  sea,  and  there  we  had  deep  communion. 

My  friend  had  inquired  if  I  were  still  faint, 
and  if  I  preferred  to  turn  aside  for  food  and 
rest ;  but  when  he  asked  me  the  question  I 
was  amazed  to  find  that  I  no  longer  had  the 


BEYOND  THE  GATES.  103 

need  of  either.  Such  delight  had  I  in  his 
presence,  such  invigoration  in  his  sympathy, 
that  glorious  recuperation  had  set  in  upon  my 
earth-caused  weariness.  Such  power  had  the 
soul  upon  the  celestial  body  I  Food  for  the 
first  was  force  to  the  other. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  I  had  never  known  re- 
freshment of  either  before ;  and  that  Heaven 
itself  could  contain  no  nutriment  that  would 
satisfy  me  after  this  upon  which  I  fed  in  that 
high  hour. 

It  is  not  possible  for  me  to  repeat  the  solemn 
words  of  that  interview.  We  spoke  of  grave 
aijd  sacred  themes.  He  gave  me  great  counsel 
and  fine  sympathy.  He  gave  me  affectionate 
rebuke  and  unfathomable  resolve.  We  talked 
of  those  inner  experiences  which,  on  earth,  the 
soul  protects,  like  struggling  flame,  between 
itself  and  the  sheltering  hand  of  God.  We 
spoke  much  of  the  Master,  and  of  my  poor 
hope  that  I  might  be  permitted  after  I  had 
been  a  long  time  in  Heaven,  to  become  worthy 
to  see  Him,  though  at  the  vast  distance  of  my 
unworthiness.     Of  that  unworthiness  too,  we 


104  BEYOND   THE  GATES. 

spoke  most  earnestly ;  while  we  did  so,  tlie 
sense  of  it  grew  within  me  like  a  new  soul ;  yet 
so  divinely  did  my  friend  extend  his  tenderness 
to  me,  that  I  was  strengthened  far  more  than 
weakened  by  these  finer  perceptions  of  my  un- 
fitness, which  he  himself  had  aroused  in  me. 
The  counsel  that  he  gave  me,  Eternity  could 
not  divert  out  of  my  memory,  and  the  comfort 
which  I  had  from  him  I  treasure  to  this  hour. 
"  Here,"  I  thought,  "  here,  at  last,  I  find  re- 
proof as  gentle  as  sympathy,  and  sympathy  as 
invigorating  as  reproof.  Now,  for  the  first 
time  in  all  my  life,  I  find  myself  truly  under- 
stood. What  could  I  not  become  if  I  pos- 
sessed the  friendship  of  such  a  being !  How 
shall  I  develop  myself  so  as  to  obtain  it? 
How  can  I  endure  to  be  deprived  of  it  ?  Is 
this  too,  like  friendship  on  earth,  a  snatch,  a 
compromise,  a  heart-ache,  a  mirror  in  which 
one  looks  only  long  enough  to  know  that  it  is 
dashed  away?  Have  I  begun  that  old  pain 
again,  here  ?" 

For  I  knew,  as  I  sat  in  that  solemn  hour 
with  my  face  to  the  sea  and  my  soul  with  him, 


BEYOND   THE   GATES.  105 

while  sweeter  tlian  any  song  o£  all  the  waves 
of  Heaven  or  earth  to  sea-lovers  sounded  his 
voice  who  did  commune  with  me,  —  verily  I 
knew,  for  then  and  forever,  that  earth  had  been 
a  void  to  me  because  I  had  him  not,  and  that 
Heaven  could  be  no  Heaven  to  me  without 
him. 

All  which  I  had  known  of  human  love  ;  all 
that  I  had  missed ;  the  dreams  from  which  I  had 
been  startled ;  the  hopes  that  had  evaded  me ; 
the  patience  which  comes  from  knowing  that 
one  may  not  even  try  not  to  be  misunderstood ; 
the  struggle  to  keep  a  solitary  heart  sweet ;  the 
anticipation  of  desolate  age  which  casts  its 
shadow  backward  upon  the  dial  of  middle  life ; 
the  paralysis  of  feeling  which  creeps  on  with  ita> 
disuse ;  the  distrust  of  one's  own  atrophied  fac- 
ulties of  loving ;  the  sluggish  wonder  if  one  is 
ceasing  to  be  lovable ;  the  growing  difficulty  of 
explaining  oneself  even  when  it  is  necessary, 
because  no  one  being  more  than  any  other  cares 
for  the  explanation ;  the  things  which  a  lonely 
life  converts  into  silence  that  cannot  be  bro- 
ken, swept  upon  me  like  rapids,  as,  turijing  to 


106  BEYOND    THE  GATES. 

look  into  his  dazzling  face,  I  said  :  "  This  — ■ 
all  this  he  understands." 

But  when,  thus  turning,  I  would  have  told 
him  so,  for  there  seemed  to  be  no  poor  pride  in 
Heaven,  forbidding  soul  to  tell  the  truth  to  soul, 
—  when  I  turned,  my  friend  had  risen,  and  was 
departing  from  me,  as  swiftly  and  mysteriously 
as  he  came.  I  did  not  cry  out  to  him  to  stay, 
for  I  felt  ashamed ;  nor  did  I  tell  him  how  he 
had  bereft  me,  for  that  seemed  a  childish  folly. 
I  think  I  only  stood  and  looked  at  him. 

"  If  there  is  any  way  of  being  worthy  of  your 
friendship,"  I  said  below  my  breath,  "I  will 
have  it,  if  I  toil  for  half  Eternity  to  get  it." 

Now,  though  these  words  were  scarcely  ar- 
ticulate, I  think  he  heard  them,  and  turning, 
with  a  smile  which  will  haunt  my  dreams  and 
stir  my  deeds  as  long  as  I  shall  live,  he  laid 
his  hand  upon  my  head,  and  blessed  me  —  but 
what  he  said  I  shall  tell  no  man  —  and  so  de- 
parted from  me,  and  I  was  left  upon  the  shore 
alone,  fallen,  I  think,  in  a  kind  of  sleep  or  swoon. 

When  I  awoke,  I  was  greatly  calmed  and 
strengthened,  but  disinclined,  at  first,  to  move. 
I  had  the  reaction  from  what  I  knew  was  the 


BEYOND    THE  GATES.  107 

intensest  experience  of  my  life,  and  it  took 
time  to  adjust  my  feelings  to  my  thoughts. 

A  young  girl  came  up  while  I  sat  there  upon 
the  sands,  and  employed  herself  in  gathering 
certain  marvelous  weeds  that  the  sea  had  tossed 
up.  These  weeds  fed  upon  the  air,  as  they  had 
upon  the  water,  remaining  fresh  upon  the  girl's 
garments,  which  she  decorated  with  them.  She 
did  not  address  me,  but  strolled  up  and  down 
silently.  Presently,  feeling  moved  by  the  as- 
surance of  congeniality  that  one  detects  so 
much  more  quickly  in  Heaven  than  on  earth,  I 
said  to  the  young  girl :  — 

"  Can  you  tell  me  the  name  of  the  angel  — 
you  must  have  met  him  —  who  has  but  just 
left  me,  and  with  whom  I  have  been  convers- 
ing?" 

"  Do  you  then  truly  not  know  ?  "  she  asked, 
shading  her  eyes  with  her  hand,  and  looking  off 
in  the  direction  my  friend  had  taken ;  then  back 
again,  with  a  fine,  compassionate  surprise  at  me. 

"  Indeed  I  know  not." 

"  That  was  the  Master  who  spoke  with  you." 

"  What  did  you  say  ?  " 

"  That  was  our  Lord  Himself." 


vin. 

After  the  experience  related  in  the  last 
chapter,  I  remained  for  some  time  in  solitude. 
Speech  seemed  incoherence,  and  effort  impos- 
sible. I  needed  a  pause  to  adapt  myself  to  ray 
awe  and  my  happiness  ;  upon  neither  of  which 
will  it  be  necessary  for  me  to  dwell.  Yet  I 
think  I  may  be  luiderstood  if  I  say  that  from 
this  hour  I  found  that  what  we  call  Heaven 
had  truly  begun  for  me.  Now  indeed  for  the 
first  time  I  may  say  that  I  believed  without 
wonder  in  the  life  everlasting  ;  since  now,  for 
the  first  time,  I  had  a  reason  sufficient  for  the 
continuance  of  existence.  A  force  like  the 
cohesion  of  atoms  held  me  to  eternal  hope. 
Brighter  than  the  dawn  of  friendship  upon  a 
heart  bereft,  more  solemn  than  the  sunrise  of 
love  itself  upon  a  life  that  had  thought  itself 
unloved,  stole  on  the  power  of  the  Presence  to 
which  I  had  been  admitted  in  so  surprising,  and 


BEYOND   THE   GATES.  109 

yet,  after  all,  how  natural  a  way  !  Henceforth 
the  knowledge  that  this  experience  might  be 
renewed  for  me  at  any  turn  of  thought  or  act, 
would  illuminate  joy  itself,  so  that  "  it  should 
have  no  need  of  the  sun  to  lighten  it."  I 
recalled  these  words,  as  one  recalls  a  famil- 
iar quotation  repeated  for  the  first  time  on 
some  foreign  locality  of  which  it  is  descriptive. 
Now  I  knew  what  he  meant,  who  wrote :  "  The 
Lamb  is  the  Light  thereof." 

When  I  came  to  myself,  I  observed  the 
young  girl  who  had  before  addressed  me  stiQ 
strolling  on  the  shore.  She  beckoned,  and  I 
went  to  her,  with  a  new  meekness  in  my  heart. 
What  will  He  have  me  to  do  ?  If,  by  the 
lips  of  this  young  thing,  He  choose  to  instruct 
me,  let  me  glory  in  the  humihty  with  which  I 
will  be  a  learner  I 

All  things  seemed  to  be  so  exquisitely  or- 
dered for  us  in  this  new  life,  all  flowed  so 
naturally,  like  one  sound-wave  into  another, 
with  ease  so  apparent,  yet  under  law  so  superb, 
that  already  I  was  certain  Heaven  contained 


110  BEYOND  THE   GATES. 

no  accidents,  and  no  trivialities;  as  it  did  ne 
shocks  or  revolutions. 

"  If  you  like,"  said  the  young  girl,  "  we  wUl 
cross  the  sea." 

"  But  how  ?  "  I  asked,  for  I  saw  no  boat. 

"Can  you  not,  then,  walk  upon  the  water 
yet  ?  "  she  answered.  "  Many  of  us  do,  as  He 
did  once  below.  But  we  no  longer  call  such 
things  miracles.  They  are  natural  powers. 
Yet  it  is  an  art  to  use  them.  One  has  to 
learn  it,  as  we  did  swimming,  or  such  things,  in 
the  old  times." 

"I  have  only  been  here  a  short  time,"  I 
said,  half  amused  at  the  little  celestial  "  airs  " 
my  young  friend  wore  so  sweetly.  "  I  know 
but  little  yet.  Can  you  teach  me  how  to  walk 
on  water  ?  " 

"  It  would  take  so  much  time,"  said  the 
young  girl,  "  that  I  think  we  should  not  wait  for 
that.  We  go  on  to  the  next  duty,  now.  You 
had  better  learn,  I  think,  from  somebody  wiser 
than  I.     I  will  take  you  over  another  way." 

A  great  and  beautiful  shell,  not  unlike  a 
nautilus,  was  floating  near  us,  on  the  incoming 


BEYOND   THE  GATES.  HI 

tide,  and  my  companion  motioned  to  me  to  step 
into  this.  I  obeyed  her,  laughing,  but  without 
any  hesitation.  "  Neither  shall  there  be  any 
more  death,"  I  thought  as  I  glanced  over  the 
rose-tinted  edges  of  the  frail  thing  into  the 
water,  deeper  than  any  I  had  ever  seen,  but  un- 
clouded, so  that  I  looked  to  the  bottom  of  the 
sea.  The  girl  herself  stepped  out  upon  the 
waves  with  a  practiced  air,  and  lightly  drawing 
the  great  shell  with  one  hand,  bore  me  after  her, 
as  one  bears  a  sledge  upon  ice.  As  we  came 
into  mid-water  we  began  to  meet  others,  some 
walking,  as  she  did,  some  rowing  or  drifting 
like  myself.  Upon  the  opposite  shore  uprose 
the  outlines  of  a  more  thickly  settled  commu- 
nity than  any  I  had  yet  seen. 

Watching  this  with  interest  that  deepened 
as  we  approached  the  shore,  I  selfishly  or  un- 
courteously  forgot  to  converse  with  my  com- 
panion, who  did  not  disturb  my  silence  until 
we  landed.  As  she  gave  me  her  hand,  she 
said  in  a  quick,  direct  tone  : 

"  Well,  Miss  Mary,  I  see  that  you  do  not 
know  me,  after  all." 


112  BEYOND   THE  GATES. 

I  felt,  as  I  had  already  done  once  or  twice 
before,  a  certain  social  embarrassment  (which 
in  itself  instructed  me,  as  perpetuating  one  of 
the  minor  emotions  of  life  below  that  I  had 
hardly  expected  to  renew)  before  my  lovely 
guide,  as  I  shook  my  head,  struggling  with  the 
phantasmal  memories  evoked  by  her  words.  No, 
I  did  not  know  her. 

"  I  am  Marie  Sauvde.  I  hope  you  remem- 
ber." 

She  said  these  words  in  French.  The  change 
of  language  served  instantly  to  recall  the  long 
train  of  impressions  stored  away,  who  knew 
how  or  where,  about  the  name  and  memory  of 
this  girl. 

"  Marie  Sauv^e  I  You  —  heee  ! "  I  ex- 
claimed in  her  own  tongue. 

At  the  name,  now,  the  whole  story,  like  the 
bright  side  of  a  dark-lantern,  flashed.  It  was 
a  tale  of  sorrow  and  shame,  as  sad,  perhaps,  as 
any  that  it  had  been  my  lot  to  meet.  So  far 
as  I  had  ever  known,  the  little  French  girl, 
thrown  in  my  way  while  I  was  serving  in  bar- 
racks at  Washington,  had  baffled  every  effort  I 


BEYOND   THE  GATES.  113 

had  made  to  win  her  affection  or  her  confi- 
dence, and  had  gone  out  of  my  life  as  the  this- 
tle-down flies  on  the  wind.  She  had  cost  me 
many  of  those  precious  drops  of  the  soul's 
blood  which  all  such  endeavor  drains ;  and  in 
the  laboratory  of  memory  I  had  labelled  them, 
"  Worse  than  Wasted,"  and  sadly  wondered 
if  I  shoidd  do  the  same  again  for  such  another 
need,  at  just  such  hopeless  expenditure,  and 
had  reminded  myself  that  it  was  not  good 
spiritual  economy,  and  said  that  I  would  never 
repeat  the  experience,  and  known  all  the  while 
that  I  should. 

Now  here,  a  spirit  saved,  shining  as  the  air 
of  Heaven,  "  without  spot  or  any  such  thing  "— 
here,  wiser  in  heavenly  lore  than  I,  longer  with 
Him  than  I,  nearer  to  Him  than  I,  dearer  to 
Him,  perhaps,  than  I  —  here  was  Marie  Sau- 
vde. 

"  I  do  not  know  how  to  apologize,"  I  said, 
struggling  with  my  emotion,  "  for  the  way  in 
which  I  spoke  to  you  just  now.  Why  should 
you  not  be  here  ?  Why,  indeed  ?  Why  am 
I  here?  Why"  — 
8 


114  BEYOND   THE  GATES. 

"Dear  Miss  Mary,"  cried  the  girl,  inter- 
rupting me  passionately,  "  but  for  you  it  might 
never  have  been  as  it  is.  Or  never  for  asfes  — 
I  cannot  say.  I  might  have  been  a  ghost, 
bound  yet  to  the  hated  ghost  of  the  old  life. 
It  was  your  doing,  at  the  first  —  down  there  — 
all  those  years  ago.  Miss  Mary,  you  were  the 
first  person  I  ever  loved.  You  did  n't  know 
it.  I  had  no  idea  of  telling  you.  But  I  did,  I 
loved  you.  After  you  went  away,  I  loved  you ; 
ever  since  then,  I  loved  you.  I  said,  I  will  be 
fit  to  love  her  before  I  die.  And  then  I  said, 
I  will  go  where  she  is  going,  for  I  shall  never 
get  at  her  anywhere  else.  And  when  I  en- 
tered this  place  —  for  I  had  no  friend  or  relative 
here  that  I  knew,  to  meet  me  —  I  was  more 
frightened  than  it  is  possible  for  any  one  like 
you  to  understand,  and  wondered  what  place 
there  could  be  for  one  like  me  in  all  this  coun- 
try, and  how  I  could  ever  get  accustomed  to 
their  ways,  and  whether  I  should  shock  and 
grieve  them  —  you  can't  understand  that;  I 
dreaded  it  so,  I  was  afraid  I  should  swear  after 
I  got  to  Heaven;  I  was  afraid  I  might  say 


BEYOND   THE  GATES.  115 

some  evil  word,  and  shame  them  all,  and  shame 
myself  more  than  I  could  ever  get  over.  I 
knew  I  was  n't  educated  for  any  such  society. 
I  knew  there  was  n't  anything  in  me  that  would 
be  at  home  here,  but  just "  — 

"  But  just  what,  Marie  ? "  I  asked,  with  a 
humility  deeper  than  I  could  have  expressed. 

"  But  just  my  love  for  you.  Miss  Mary. 
That  was  aU.  I  had  nothing  to  come  to 
Heaven  on,  but  loving  you  and  meaning  to  be 
a  better  girl  because  I  loved  you.  That  was 
truly  aU." 

"  That  is  impossible ! "  I  said  quickly.  "  Your 
love  for  me  never  brought  you  here  of  itself 
alone.  You  are  mistaken  about  this.  It  is 
neither  Christianity  nor  philosophy." 

"  There  is  no  mistake,"  persisted  the  girl, 
with  gentle  obstinacy,  smiling  delightedly  at 
my  dogmatism,  "  I  came  here  because  I  loved 
you.  Do  you  not  see?  In  loving  you,  I 
loved  —  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  loved 
—  goodness.  I  really  did.  And  when  I  got 
to  this  place,  I  found  out  that  goodness  was 
the  same  as  God.     And  I  had  been  getting 


116  BEYOND   THE  GATES. 

the  love  of  God  into  my  heart,  all  that  time, 
in  that  strange  way,  and  never  knew  how  it 
was  with  me,  until  —  Oh,  Miss  Mary,  who  do 
you  think  it  was,  WHO,  that  met  me  within  an 
hour  after  I  died  ?  " 

"  It  was  our  Master,"  she  added  in  an  awe- 
struck, yet  rapturous  whisper,  that  thrilled  me 
through.  "  It  was  He  Himself.  He  was  the 
first,  for  I  had  nobody,  as  I  told  you,  belong- 
ing to  me  in  this  holy  place,  to  care  for  a  wretch 
like  me.  — He  was  the  first  to  meet  me  !  And 
it  was  He  who  taught  me  everything  I  had  to 
learn.  It  was  He  who  made  me  feel  ac- 
quainted and  at  home.  It  was  He  who  took 
me  on  from  love  of  you,  to  love  of  Him,  as 
you  put  one  foot  after  another  in  learning  to 
walk  after  you  have  had  a  terrible  sickness. 
And  it  was  He  who  never  reminded  me  — 
never  once  reminded  me  —  of  the  sinful  crear 
ture  I  had  been.  Never,  by  one  word  or  look, 
from  that  hour  to  this  day,  has  He  let  me  feel 
ashamed  in  Heaven.  That  is  what  He  is !  " 
cried  the  girl,  turning  upon  me,  in  a  little  sud- 
den, sharp  way  she  used  to  have ;  her  face  and 


BEYOND   THE  GATES.  117 

form  were  so  transfigured  before  me,  as  slie 
spoke,  that  it  seemed  as  if  she  quivered  with 
excess  of  light,  and  were  about  to  break  away 
and  diffuse  herself  upon  the  radiant  air,  like 
song,  or  happy  speech,  or  melting  color. 

"  Die  for  Him !  "  she  said  after  a  passion- 
ate silence.  "  If  I  could  die  everlastingly  and 
everlastingly  and  everlastingly,  to  give  Him 
any  pleasure,  or  to  save  Him  any  pain  —  But 
then,  that 's  nothing,"  she  added,  "  I  love 
Him.  That  is  all  that  means.  —  And  I've 
on^^ot  to  live  everlastingly  instead.  That 
is  the  way  He  has  treated  me  —  me  I  " 


IX. 

The  shore  upon  which  we  had  landed  was 
thickly  populated,  as  I  have  said.  Through  a 
sweep  of  surpassingly  beautiful  suburbs,  we 
approached  the  streets  of  a  town.  It  is-liard 
to  say  why  I  should  have  been  surprised  at 
finding  in  this  place  the  signs  of  human  traffic, 
philanthropy,  art,  and  study  —  what  otherwise 
I  expected,  who  can  say  ?  My  impressions,  as 
Marie  Sauv(!ie  led  me  through  the  city,  had 
the  confusion  of  sudden  pleasure.  The  width 
and  shining  cleanliness  of  the  streets,  the 
beauty  and  glittering  material  of  the  houses, 
the  frequent  presence  of  libraries,  museums, 
public  gardens,  signs  of  attention  to  the  wants 
of  animals,  and  places  of  shelter  for  travel- 
ers  such  as  I  had  never  seen  in  the  most 
advanced  and  benevolent  of  cities  below, — 
these  were  the  points  that  struck  me  most 
forcibly. 


BEYOND    THE  GATES.  119 

The  next  thing,  which  in  a  different  mood 
might  have  been  the  first  that  impressed  me 
was  the  remarkable  expression  of  the  faces 
that  I  met  or  passed.  No  thoughtful  person 
can  have  failed  to  observe,  in  any  throng,  the 
preponderant  look  of  imrest  and  dissatisfaction 
in  the  human  eye.  Nothing,  to  a  fine  vision, 
so  emphasizes  the  isolation  of  being,  as  the 
faces  of  people  in  a  crowd.  In  this  new  com- 
munity to  which  I  had  been  brought,  that  old 
effect  v/as  replaced  by  a  delightful  change.  I 
perceived,  indeed,  great  intentness  of  purpose 
here,  as  in  all  thickly-settled  regions ;  the  coun- 
tenances that  passed  me  indicated  close  con- 
servation of  social  force  and  economy  of  intel- 
lectual energy;  these  were  people  trained  by 
attrition  with  many  influences,  and  balanced 
with  the  conflict  of  various  interests.  But 
these  were  men  and  women,  busy  without 
hurry,  efficacious  without  waste  ;  they  had  am- 
bition without  unscrupulousness,  power  without 
tyranny,  success  without  vanity,  care  without 
anxiety,  effort  without  exhaustion,  —  hope,  fear, 
toil,  uncertainty  it  seemed,  elation  it  was  sure 


120  BEYOND   THE  GATES. 

—  but  a  repose  that  it  was  impossible  to  call 
by  any  other  name  than  divine,  controlled  their 
movements,  which  were  like  the  pendulum  of  a 
golden  clock  whose  works  are  out  of  sight.  I 
watched  these  people  with  delight.  Great  num- 
bers of  them  seemed  to  be  students,  thronging 
what  we  should  call  below  colleges,  seminaries, 
or  schools  of  art,  or  music,  or  science.  The  pro- 
portion of  persons  pursuing  some  form  of  intel- 
lectual acquisition  struck  me  as  large.  My 
little  guide,  to  whom  I  mentioned  this,  assented 
to  the  fact,  pointing  out  to  me  a  certain  insti- 
tution we  had  passed,  at  which  she  herself  was, 
she  said,  something  like  a  primary  scholar,  and 
from  which  she  had  been  given  a  holiday  to 
meet  me  as  she  did,  and  conduct  me  through 
the  journey  that  had  been  appointed  for  me 
on  that  day.  I  inquired  of  her  what  her  stud- 
ies might  be  like ;  but  she  told  me  that  she  was 
hardly  wise  enough  as  yet  to  explain  to  me 
what  I  could  learn  for  myself  when  I  had 
been  longer  in  this  place,  and  when  my  leisure 
came  for  investigating  its  attractions  at  my 
own  will. 


BEYOND    THE  GATES.  121 

"  I  am  uncommonly  ignorant,  you  know," 
said  Marie  Sauvee  humbly,  "I  have  every- 
thing to  learn.  There  is  book  knowledge  and 
thought  knowledge  and  soul  knowledge,  and  I 
have  not  any  of  these.  I  was  as  much  of  what 
you  used  to  caU  a  heathen,  as  any  Fiji-Islander 
you  gave  your  missionaries  to.  I  have  so  much 
to  learn,  that  1  am  not  sent  yet  upon  other 
business  such  as  I  should  like." 

Upon  my  asking  Marie  Sauvee  what  busi- 
ness this  might  be,  she  hesitated.  "  I  have 
become  ambitious  in  Heaven,"  she  answered 
slowly.  "I  shall  never  be  content  till  I  am 
fit  to  be  sent  to  the  worst  woman  that  can  be 
found  —  no  matter  which  side  of  death  —  I 
don't  care  in  what  world  —  I  want  to  be  sent 
to  one  that  nobody  else  will  touch  ;  I  think  I 
might  know  how  to  save  her.  It  is  a  tremen- 
dous ambition  !  "  she  repeated.  "  Preposterous 
for  the  greatest  angel  there  is  here !  And 
yet  I  —  /mean  to  do  it." 

I  was  led  on  in  this  way  by  Marie  Sauvde, 
through  and  out  of  the  city  into  the  western 
suburbs;  we  had  approached  from  the  east, 


122  BEYOND   TEE  GATES. 

and  had  walked  a  long  distance.  There  did 
not  occur  to  me,  I  think,  till  we  had  made  the 
circuit  of  the  beautiful  town,  one  thing,  which, 
when  I  did  observe  it,  struck  me  as,  on  the 
whole,  the  most  impressive  that  I  had  noticed. 
"  I  have  not  seen,"  I  said,  stopping  suddenly, 
"  I  have  not  seen  a  poor  person  in  all  this 
city." 

"  Nor  an  aged  one,  have  you  ?  "  asked  Ma- 
rie Sauv^e,  smiling. 

"  Now  that  I  think  of  it,  —  no.  Nor  a  sick 
one.  Not  a  beggar.  Not  a  cripple.  Not  a 
mourner.  Not  —  and  yet  what  have  we  here  ? 
This  building,  by  which  you  are  leading  me, 
bears  a  device  above  the  door,  the  last  I  should 
ever  have  expected  to  find  herer 

It  was  an  imposing  building,  of  a  certain 
translucent  material  that  had  the  massiveness 
of  marble,  with  the  delicacy  of  thin  agate  il- 
luminated from  within.  The  rear  of  this  build- 
ing gave  upon  the  open  country,  with  a  back- 
ground of  hills,  and  the  vision  of  the  sea  which 
I  had  crossed.  People  strolled  about  the 
grounds,  which  had  more  than  the  magnifi- 


BEYOND   THE  GATES.  123 

cence  of  Oriental  gardens.  Music  came  from 
the  building,  and  the  saunterers,  whom  I  saw, 
seemed  nevertheless  not  to  be  idlers,  but  per- 
sons busily  employed  in  various  ways  —  I 
should  have  said,  under  the  close  direction 
of  others  who  guided  them.  The  inscription 
above  the  door  of  this  building  was  a  word,  in 
a  tongue  unknown  to  me,  meaning  "  Hospital," 
as  I  was  told. 

"They  are  the  sick  at  heart,"  said  Marie 
Saiivde,  in  answer  to  my  look  of  perplexity, 
"  who  are  healed  there.  And  they  are  the 
sick  of  soul ;  tliose  who  were  most  unready  for 
the  new  life ;  they  whose  spiritual  being  was 
diseased  through  inaction,  they  are  the  invalids 
of  Heaven.  There  they  are  put  under  treat- 
ment, and  slowly  cured.  With  some,  it  takes 
long.  I  was  there  myself  when  I  first  came, 
for  a  little  ;  it  will  be  a  most  interesting  place 
for  you  to  visit,  by-and-by." 

I  inquired  who  were  the  physicians  of  this 
celestial  sanitarium. 

"  They  who  unite  the  natural  love  of  healing 
to  the  highest  spiritual  development." 


124  BEYOND    THE  GATES. 

"  By  no  means,  then,  necessarily  they  who 
were  skilled  in  the  treatment  of  diseases  on 
earth  ?  "  I  asked,  laughing. 

"  Such  are  oftener  among  the  patients," 
said  Marie  Sauv^e  sadly.  To  me,  so  lately 
from  the  earth,  and  our  low  earthly  way  of 
finding  amusement  in  facts  of  this  nature,  this 
girl's  gravity  was  a  rebuke.  I  thanked  her 
for  it,  and  we  passed  by  the  hospital  —  which 
I  secretly  made  uj?  my  mind  to  investigate  at 
another  time  —  and  so  out  into  the  wider 
country,  more  sparsely  settled,  but  it  seemed 
to  me  more  beautiful  than  that  we  had  left 
behind. 

"  There,"  I  said,  at  length,  "  is  to  my  taste 
the  loveliest  spot  we  have  seen  yet.  That  is 
the  most  homelike  of  all  these  homes." 

We  stopped  before  a  small  and  quiet  house 
built  of  curiously  inlaid  woods,  that  reminded 
me  of  Sorrento  work  as  a  great  achievement 
may  remind  one  of  a  first  and  faint  suggestion. 
So  exquisite  was  the  carving  and  coloring,  that 
on  a  larger  scale  the  effect  might  have  inter- 
fered with  the  solidity  of  the  building,  but  so 


BEYOND  THE   GATES.  125 

modest  were  the  proportions  of  this  charming 
house,  that  its  dignity  was  only  enhanced  by 
its  delicacy.  It  was  shielded  by  trees,  some 
familiar  to  me,  others  strange.  There  were 
flowers  —  not  too  many  ;  birds ;  and  I  noticed 
a  fine  dog  smining  himself  upon  the  steps. 
The  sweep  of  landscape  from  all  the  win- 
dows of  this  house  must  have  been  grand. 
The  wind  drove  up  from  the  sea.  The  light, 
which  had  a  peculiar  depth  and  color,  remind- 
ing me  of  that  which  on  earth  flows  from  un- 
der the  edge  of  a  breaking  storm-cloud  at  the 
hour  preceding  sunset,  formed  an  aureola  about 
the  house.  When  my  companion  suggested 
my  examining  this  place,  since  it  so  attracted 
me,  I  hesitated,  but  yielding  to  her  wiser  judg- 
ment, strolled  across  the  little  lawn,  and  stood, 
uncertain,  at  the  threshold.  The  dog  arose  as 
I  came  vip,  and  met  me  cordially,  but  no  per- 
son seemed  to  be  in  sight.' 

"  Enter,"  said  Marie  Sauv^e  in  a  tone  of 
decision.  "  You  are  expected.  Go  where  you 
wiU." 

I  turned  to  remonstrate  with  her,  but  the 


126  BEYOND  THE  GATES. 

girl  had  disappeared.  Finding  myself  thus 
thrown  on  my  own  resources,  and  having 
learned  already  the  value  of  obedience  to  mys- 
terious influences  in  this  new  life,  I  gathered 
courage,  and  went  into  the  house.  The  dog 
followed  me  affectionately,  rather  than  suspi- 
ciously. 

For  a  few  moments  I  stood  in  the  hall  or 
ante-room,  alone  and  perplexed.  Doors  opened 
at  right  and  left,  and  castas  of  exquisitely- 
ordered  rooms  stretched  out.  I  saw  much  of 
the  familiar  fumitiire  of  a  modest  home,  and 
much  that  was  unfamiliar  mingled  therewith. 
I  desired  to  ask  the  names  or  purposes  of  cer- 
tain useful  articles,  and  the  characters  and 
creators  of  certain  works  of  art.  I  was  be- 
wildered and  delighted.  I  had  something  of 
the  feeling  of  a  rustic  visitor  taken  for  the 
first  time  to  a  palace  or  imposing  town-house. 

Was  Heaven  an  aggregate  of  homes  like 
this  ?  Did  everlasting  life  move  on  in  the 
same  dear  ordered  channel  —  the  dearest  that 
human  experiment  had  ever  foimd  —  the  chan- 
nel of  family  love  ?    Had  one,  after  death,  the 


BEYOND  THE  GATES.  127 

old  blessedness  without  the  old  burden  ?  The 
old  sweetness  without  the  old  mistake?  The 
familiar  rest,  and  never  the  familiar  fret  ? 
Was  there  always  in  the  eternal  world  "  some- 
body to  come  home  to  "  ?  And  was  there  al- 
ways the  knowledge  that  it  could  not  be  the 
wrong  person  ?  Was  all  thai  eliminated  from 
celestial  domestic  life  ?  Did  Heaven  solve  the 
problem  on  which  earth  had  done  no  more 
than  speculate  ? 

While  I  stood,  gone  well  astray  on  thoughts 
like  these,  feeling  still  too  great  a  deHcacy 
about  my  uninvited  presence  in  this  house,  I 
heard  the  steps  of  the  host,  or  so  I  took  them 
to  be  ;  they  had  the  indefinable  ring  of  the 
master's  foot.  I  remained  where  I  was,  not 
without  embarrassment,  ready  to  apologize  for 
my  intrusion  as  soon  as  he  should  come  within 
sight.  He  crossed  the  long  room  at  the  left, 
leisurely ;  I  counted  his  quiet  footsteps ;  he 
advanced,  turned,  saw  me  —  I  too,  turned  — 
and  so,  in  this  way,  it  came  about  that  I  stood 
face  to  face  with  my  own  father.     • 

...  I  had  found  the  eternal  life  full  of  the 


128  BEYOND   TEE  GATES. 

unexpected,  but  this  was  almost  the  sweetest 
thing  that  had  happened  to  me  yet. 

Presently  my  father  took  me  over  the  house 
and  the  grounds ;  with  a  boyish  delight,  ex- 
plaining to  me  how  many  years  he  had  been 
building  and  constructing  and  waiting  with 
patience  in  his  heavenly  home  for  the  first  one 
of  his  own  to  join  him.  Now,  he  too,  should 
have  "  somebody  to  come  home  to."  As  we 
dwelt  upon  the  past  and  glanced  at  the  future, 
our  full  hearts  overflowed.  He  explained  to 
me  that  my  new  life  had  but  now,  in  the 
practical  sense  of  the  word,  begun;  since  a 
human  home  was  the  centre  of  all  growth  and 
blessedness.  When  he  had  shown  me  to  my 
own  portion  of  the  house,  and  bidden  me  wel- 
come to  it,  he  pointed  out  to  me  a  certain 
room  whose  door  stood  always  open,  but  whose 
threshold  was  never  crossed.  I  hardly  feel 
that  I  have  the  right,  in  this  public  way,  to  de- 
scribe, in  detail,  the  construction  or  adornment 
of  this  room.  I  need  only  say  that  Pleaven 
itself  seertfed  to  have  been  ransacked  to  bring 
together  the  daintiest,  the  most  delicate,  the 


BEYOND  THE  GATES.  129 

purest,  thoughts  aud  fancies  that  celestial  skill 
or  art  could  create.  Years  had  gone  to  the 
creation  of  this  spot ;  it  was  a  growth  of  time, 
the  occupation  of  that  loneliness  which  must 
be  even  in  the  happy  life,  when  death  has 
temporarily  separated  two  who  had  been  one. 
I  was  quite  prepared  for  his  whispered  words, 
when  he  said,  — 

"Your  mother's  room,  my  dear.  It  wiU  be 
all  ready  for  her  at  any  time." 

This  union  had  been  a  marriage  —  not  one 
of  the  imperfect  ties  that  pass  under  the 
name,  on  earth.  Afterwards,  when  I  learned 
more  of  the  social  economy  of  the  new  life,  I 
perceived  more  clearly  the  rarity  and  pectdiax 
value  of  an  experience  which  had  in  it  the  ele- 
ments of  what  might  be  called  (if  I  should  be 
allowed  the  phrase)  eternal  permanency,  and 
which  involved,  therefore,  none  of  the  disin- 
tegration and  redistribution  of  relations  con- 
sequent upon  passing  from  temporary  or  mis- 
taken choices  to  a  fixed  and  perfect  state  of 
society. 

Later,  on  that  same  evening,  I  was  called 
a 


130  BEYOND  THE  GATES. 

eagerly  from  below.  I  was  resting,  and  alone ; 
—  I  had,  so  to  speak,  drawn  my  first  breath 
in  Heaven ;  once  again,  like  a  girl  in  my  own 
room  under  my  father's  roof;  my  heart  at 
anchor,  and  my  peace  at  full  tide.  I  ran  as 
I  used  to  run,  years  ago,  when  he  called  me, 
crying  down,  — 

"I'm  coming.  Father,"  while  I  delayed  a 
moment  to  freshen  my  dress,  and  to  fasten  it 
with  some  strange  white  flowers  that  climbed 
over  my  window,  and  poered,  nodding  like 
children,  into  the  room. 

When  I  reached  the  hall,  or  whatever  might 
be  the  celestial  name  for  the  entrance  room 
below,  I  did  not  immediately  see  my  father, 
but  I  heard  the  sound  of  voices  beyond,  and 
perceived  the  presence  of  many  people  in  the 
house.  As  I  hesitated,  wondering  what  might 
be  the  etiquette  of  these  new  conditions,  and 
whether  I  should  be  expected  to  play  the 
hostess  at  a  reception  of  angels  or  saints,  some 
one  came  up  from  behind  me,  I  think,  and 
held  out  his  hand  in  silence. 

"St.  Johns!"  I  cried,  "Jamie  St.  Johns! 
The  last  time  I  saw  you  "  —    . 


BEYOND  THE  GATES.  181 

<*  The  last  time  you  saw  me  was  in  a  field- 
hospital  after  the  battle  of  Malvern  Hills," 
said  St.  Johns.  "  I  died  in  your  arms,  Miss 
Mary.  Shot  flew  about  you  while  you  got 
me  that  last  cup  of  water.  I  died  hard.  You 
sang  the  hymn  I  asked  for  — '  Ye  who  tossed 
on  beds  of  pain '  —  and  the  shell  struck  the 
tent-pole  twenty  feet  off,  but  you  sang  right 
on.  I  was  afraid  you  would  stop.  I  was  al- 
most gone.  But  you  never  faltered.  You 
sang  my  soul  out  —  do  you  remember  ?  1  've 
been  watching  all  this  while  for  you.  I  've 
been  a  pretty  busy  man  since  I  got  to  this 
place,  but  I  've  always  found  time  to  run  in 
and  ask  your  father  when  he  expected  you. 

"  I  meant  to  be  the  first  all  along ;  but  I  hear 
there's  a  girl  got  ahead  of  me.  She  's  here, 
too,  and  some  more  women.  But  most  of  us 
are  the  boys,  to-night.  Miss  Mary,  —  come  to 
give  you  a  sort  of  house-warming  —  just  to 
say  we  've  never  forgotten !  .  .  .  and  you  see 
we  want  to  say  '  Welcome  home  at  last '  to  our 
army  woman — God  bless  her — as  she  blessed 
usi 


132  BEYOND  TEE   GATES. 

"  Come  in,  Miss  Mary !  Don't  feel  bashful. 
It 's  nobody  but  your  own  boys.  Here  we  are. 
There 's  a  thing  I  remember  —  you  used  to 
read  it.  '  For  when  ye  fail '  —  you  know  I 
never  could  quote  straight  — '  they  shall  re- 
ceive you  into  everlasting  habitations '  —  Was 
n't  that  it  ?  Now  here.  See  !  Count  us !  Not 
one  missing,  do  you  see  ?  You  said  you  'd 
have  us  all  here  yet  —  all  that  died  before  you 
did.  You  used  to  tell  us  so.  You  prayed  it, 
and  you  lived  it,  and  you  did  it,  and,  by  His 
everlasting  mercy,  here  we  are.  Look  us  over. 
Count  again.  I  couldn't  make  a  speech  on 
earth  and  I  can't  make  one  in  Heaven  —  but 
the  fellows  put  me  up  to  it.  Come  in,  TVIIss 
Mary !  Dear  Miss  Mary  —  why,  we  want  to 
shake  hands  with  you,  all  around !  We  want 
to  sit  and  tell  army-stories  half  the  night.  We 
want  to  have  some  of  the  old  songs,  and  — 
What !  Crying,  Miss  Mary  ?  —  You  ?  We 
never  saw  you  cry  in  all  our  lives.  Your  lip 
used  to  tremble.  You  got  pretty  white ;  but 
you  weren't  that  kind  of  woman.  Oh,  see 
here !     Crying  in  Heaven  ?  "  — 


From  this  time,  the  events  which  I  am  try- 
ing to  relate  began  to  assume  in  fact  a  much 
more  orderly  course  ;  yet  in  form  I  scarcely 
find  them  more  easy  to  present.  Narrative, 
as  has  been  said  of  conversation,  "  is  always 
but  a  selection,"  and  in  this  case  the  peculiar 
difficulties  of  choosing  from  an  immense  mass 
of  material  that  which  can  be  most  fitly  com- 
pressed into  the  compass  allowed  me  by  these 
few  pages,  are  so  great,  that  I  have  again  and 
again  laid  down  my  task  in  despair ;  only  to 
be  urged  on  by  my  conviction  that  it  is  more 
clearly  my  duty  to  speak  what  may  carry  com- 
fort to  the  hearts  of  some,  than  to  worry  because 
my  imperfect  manner  of  expression  may  offend 
the  heads  of  others.  All  I  can  presume  to 
hope  for  this  record  of  an  experience  is,  that 
it  may  have  a  passing  value  to  certain  of  my 
readers  whose  anticipations  of  what  they  call 


134  BEYOND  TEE   GATES. 

"  the  Hereafter  "  are  so  vague  or  so  dubious  as 
to  be  more  of  a  pain  than  a  pleasure  to  them- 
selves. 

From  the  time  of  my  reception  into  my  fa- 
ther's house,  I  lost  the  sense  of  homelessness 
which  had  more  or  less  possessed  me  since  my 
entrance  upon  the  new  life,  and  felt  myself  be- 
coming again  a  member  of  an  organized  society, 
with  definite  duties  as  well  as  assured  pleasures 
before  me. 

These  duties  I  did  not  find  astonishingly  dif- 
ferent in  their  essence,  while  they  had  changed 
greatly  in  form,  from  those  which  had  occu- 
pied me  upon  earth.  I  found  myself  still  in- 
volved in  certain  filial  and  domestic  responsi- 
bilities, in  intellectual  acquisition,  in  the  moral 
support  of  others,  and  in  spiritual  self-culture. 
I  found  myself  a  member  of  an  active  commu- 
nity in  which  not  a  drone  nor  an  invalid  could  be 
counted,  and  I  quickly  became,  like  others  who 
surrounded  me,  an  exceedingly  busy  person. 
At  first  my  occupations  did  not  assume  sharp 
professional  distinctiveness,  but  had  rather  the 
character  of  such  as  would  belong  to  one  in 


BEYOND   THE  GATES.  135 

training  for  a  more  cultivated  condition.  This 
seemed  to  be  true  of  many  of  my  fellow-citizens ; 
that  they  were  still  in  a  state  of  education  for 
superior  usefulness  or  happiness.  AVith  others, 
as  I  have  intimated,  it  was  not  so.  My  father's 
business,  for  instance,  remained  what  it  had  al- 
ways been  —  that  of  a  religious  teacher;  and  I 
met  women  and  men  as  well,  to  whom,  as  in  the 
c:Lse  of  my  old  neighbor,  Mrs.  Mersey,  there 
had  been  set  apart  an  especial  fellowship  with 
the  spirits  of  the  recently  dead  or  still  living, 
who  had  need  of  great  guidance.  I  soon  formed, 
by  observation,  at  least,  the  acquaintance,  too, 
of  a  wide  variety  of  natures ;  —  I  met  artisans 
and  artists,  poets  and  scientists,  people  of  agri- 
cultural pursuits,  mechanical  inventors,  musi- 
cians, physicians,  students,  tradesmen,  aerial 
messengers  to  the  earth,  or  to  other  planets,  and 
a  long  list  besides,  that  would  puzzle  more  than 
it  woidd  enlighten,  should  I  attempt  to  describe 
it.  I  mention  these  points,  which  I  have  no 
space  to  amplify,  mainly  to  give  reality  to  any 
allusions  that  I  shall  make  to  my  relations  in 
the  heavenly  city,  and  to  let  it  be  understood 


136  BEYOND   THE  GATES. 

that  I  speak  of  a  community  as  organized  and 
as  various  as  Paris  or  New  York ;  which  pos- 
sessed all  the  advantages  and  none  of  the  evils 
that  we  are  accustomed  to  associate  with  massed 
population ;  that  such  a  community  existed 
without  sorrow,  without  sickness,  without  death, 
without  anxiety,  and  without  sin ;  that  the  evi- 
dences of  almost  incredible  harmony,  growth, 
and  happiness  which  I  saw  before  me  in  that 
one  locality,  I  had  reason  to  believe  extended 
to  uncounted  others  in  unknown  regions,  throng- 
ing with  joys  and  activities  the  mysteries  of 
space  and  time. 

For  reasons  which  will  be  made  clear  as  I 
approach  the  end  of  my  narrative,  I  cannot 
speak  as  fully  of  many  high  and  marvelous 
matters  in  the  eternal  life,  as  I  wish  that  I 
might  have  done.  I  am  giving  impressions 
which,  I  am  keenly  aware,  have  almost  the  im- 
perfection of  a  broken  dream.  I  can  only  crave 
from  the  reader,  on  trust,  a  patience  which  he 
may  be  more  ready  to  grant  me  at  a  later  time. 

I  now  began,  as  I  say,  to  assume  regidar 
duties  and  pleasures ;  among  the  keenest  of  the 


BEYOND   THE   GATES.  137 

latter  was  the  constant  meeting  of  old  friends 
and  acquaintances.  Much  perplexity,  great 
delight,  and  some  disappointment  awaited  me 
m  these  denouements  of  earthly  story. 

The  j)eople  whom  I  had  naturally  expected 
to  meet  earliest  were  often  longest  delayed  from 
crossing  my  path ;  in  some  cases,  they  were 
altogether  missing.  Again,  I  was  startled  by 
coming  in  contact  with  individuals  that  I  had 
never  associated,  in  my  conceptions  of  the 
future,  with  a  spiritual  existence  at  all ;  in  these 
cases  I  was  sometimes  humbled  by  discovering  a 
type  of  spiritual  character  so  far  above  my  own, 
that  my  fancies  in  their  behalf  proved  to  be 
unwarrantable  self-sufficiency.  Social  life  in 
the  heavenly  world,  I  soon  learned,  was  a  series 
of  subtle  or  acute  surprises.  It  sometimes  re- 
minded me  of  a  simile  of  George  Eliot's,  where- 
in she  likened  human  existence  to  a  game  of 
chess  in  which  each  one  of  the  pieces  had  intel- 
lect and  passions,  and  the  player  might  be 
beaten  by  his  own  pawns.  The  element  of  un- 
expectedness, which  constitutes  the  first  and  yet 
the  most  imreliable  charm  of  earthly  society,  had 


138  BEYOND    THE   GATES. 

here  acquired  a  permanent  dignity.  One  of  the 
most  memorable  things  which  I  ohserved  about 
heavenly  relations  was,  that  people  did  not,  in 
the  degree  or  way  to  which  I  was  accustomed, 
tire  of  each  other.  Attractions,  to  begin  with, 
were  less  lightly  experienced ;  their  hold  was 
deeper;  their  consequences  more  lasting.  I 
had  not  been  under  my  new  conditions  long, 
before  I  learned  that  here  genuine  feeling  was 
never  suffered  to  fall  a  sacrifice  to  intellectual 
curiosity,  or  emotional  caj^rice ;  that  here  one 
had  at  last  the  stimulus  of  social  attrition  with- 
out its  perils,  its  healthy  pleasures  without  its 
pains.  I  learned,  of  course,  much  else,  which  it 
is  more  than  difficult,  and  some  things  which 
it  is  impossible,  to  explain.  I  testify  only  of 
what  I  am  permitted. 

Among  the  intellectual  labors  that  I  earliest 
undertook  was  the  command  of  the  Universal 
Language,  which  I  soon  found  necessary  to  my 
convenience.  In  a  community  like  that  I  had 
entered,  many  nationalities  were  rej)resented, 
and  I  observed  that  while  each  retained  its  own 
fanuliar  earthly  tongue,  and  one  had  the  pleas- 


BEYOND   TEE  GATES.  139 

ant  opportunity  of  acquiring  as  many  others  as 
one  cliose,  yet  a  common  vocabulary  became 
a  desideratum  of  which,  indeed,  no  one  was 
compelled  to  avail  himself  contrary  to  his  taste, 
but  in  which  many,  like  myself,  found  the 
greatest  pleasure  and  profit.  The  command  of 
this  language  occupied  much  well-directed  time.. 
I  should  not  omit  to  say  that  a  portion  of  my 
duty  and  my  privilege  consisted  in  renewed 
visits  to  the  dearly-loved  whom  I  had  left  upon 
the  earth.  These  visits  were  sometimes  matters 
of  wiU  with  me.  Again,  they  were  strictly  occa^ 
sions  of  permission,  and  again,  I  was  denied  the 
power  to  make  them  when  I  most  deeply  de- 
sired to  do  so.  Herein  I  learned  the  difference 
between  trial  and  trouble,  and  that  while  the 
last  was  stricken  out  of  heavenly  life,  the  first 
distinctly  remained.  It  is  pleasant  to  me  to 
remember  that  I  was  allowed  to  be  of  more 
than  a  little  comfort  to  those  who  mourned  for 
me ;  that  it  was  I  who  guided  them  from  de- 
spair to  endurance,  and  so  through  peace  to 
cheerfulness,  and  the  hearty  renewal  of  daily 
human  content.     These  visits  were  for  a  long 


140  BEYOND   THE  GATES. 

time  —  excepting  the  rare  occasions  on  which 
I  met  Him  who  had  spoken  to  me  upon  the 
sea-shore  —  the  deepest  delight  which  was  of- 
fered me. 

Upon  one  point  I  foresee  that  I  shall  be 
questioned  by  those  who  have  had  the  patience 
so  far  to  follow  my  recital.  What,  it  will  be 
asked,  was  the  political  constitution  of  the  com- 
munity you  describe  ?  What  place  in  celestial 
society  has  worldly  caste  ? 

When  I  say,  strictly  none  at  all,  let  me  not 
be  misunderstood.  I  observed  the  greatest  va- 
rieties of  rank  in  the  celestial  kingdom,  which 
seemed  to  me  rather  a  close  Theocracy  than 
a  wild  commune.  There  were  powers  above 
me,  and  powers  below ;  there  were  natural 
and  harmonious  social  selections ;  there  were 
laws  and  their  officers  ;  there  was  obedience 
and  its  dignity ;  there  was  influence  and  its 
authority ;  there  were  gifts  and  their  dis- 
tinctions. I  may  say  that  I  found  far  more 
reverence  for  differences  of  rank  or  influence 
than  I  was  used  to  seeing,  at  least  in  my  own 
comer    of   the   earth.     The   main   point  was 


BEYOND  THE  GATES.  141 

that  the  basis  of  the  whole  thing  had  under- 
gone a  tremendous  change.  Inheritance,  wealth, 
intellect,  genius,  beauty,  all  the  old  passports 
to  power,  were  replaced  by  one  so  simple  yet  so 
autocratic,  that  I  hardly  know  how  to  give  any 
idea  at  once  of  its  dignity  and  its  sweetness.  I 
may  call  this  personal  holiness.  Position,  in 
the  new  life,  I  found  depended  upon  spiritual 
claims.  Distinction  was  the  result  of  charac- 
ter. The  nature  nearest  to  the  Divine  Nature 
ruled  the  social  forces.  Spiritual  culture  was 
the  ultimate  test  of  individual  importance.   \ 

I  inquired  one  day  for  a  certain  writer  of 
world-wide  —  I  mean  of  earth-wide  —  celebrity, 
who,  I  had  learned,  was  a  temporary  visitor  in 
the  city,  and  whom  I  wished  to  meet.  I  will 
not  for  sufficient  reasons  mention  the  name  of 
this  man,  who  had  been  called  the  genius  of 
his  century,  below.  I  had  anticipated  that  a 
great  ovation  would  be  given  him,  in  which  I 
desired  to  join,  and  I  was  surprised  that  his 
presence  made  little  or  no  stir  in  our  community. 
Upon  investigating  the  facts,  I  learned  that  his 
public  influence  was,  so  far,  but  a  slight  one, 


142  BEYOND  THE  GATES. 

thougli  It  had  gradually  gained,  and  was  likely 
to  increase  with  time.  He  had  been  a  man 
whose  splendid  powers  were  dedicated  to  the 
temporary  and  worldly  aspects  of  Truth,  whose 
private  life  was  selfish  and  cruel,  who  had  writ- 
ten the  most  famous  poem  of  his  age,  but  "  by 
all  his  searching  "  had  not  found  out  God. 

In  the  conditions  of  the  eternal  life,  this  gen- 
ius had  been  obliged  to  set  itself  to  learning 
the  alphabet  of  spiritual  truth ;  he  was  still  a 
pupil,  rather  than  a  master  among  us,  and  I 
was  told  that  he  himself  ardently  objected  to 
receiving  a  deference  which  was  not  as  yet  his 
due  ;  having  Set  the  might  of  his  great  nature 
as  strenuously  now  to  the  spiritual,  as  once  to 
the  intellectual  task ;  in  which,  I  must  say,  I 
was  not  without  expectation  that  he  would  ul- 
timately outvie  us  all. 

On  the  same  day  when  this  distinguished 
man  entered  and  left  our  city  (having  quietly 
accomplished  his  errand),  I  heard  the  confusion 
of  some  public  .excitement  at  a  distance,  and 
hastening  to  see  what  it  meant,  I  discovered 
that  the  object  of  it  was  a  plain,  I  thought  in 


BEYOND   THE  GATES.  143 

her  earthly  life  she  must  have  been  a  poor  wo- 
man, obscure,  perhaps,  and  timid.  The  people 
pressed  towards  her,  and  received  her  into  the 
town  by  acclamation.  They  crowned  her  with 
amaranth  and  flung  lilies  in  her  path.  The 
authorities  of  the  city  officially  met  her ;  the 
people  of  influence  hastened  to  beseech  her  to 
do  honor  to  their  homes  by  her  modest  pres- 
ence ;  we  crowded  for  a  sight  of  her,  we  begged 
for  a  word  from  her,  we  bewildered  her  with 
our  tributes,  till  she  hid  her  blushing  face  and 
was  swept  out  of  our  sight. 

"  But  who  is  this,"  I  asked  an  eager  passer, 
"to  whom  such  an  extraordinary  reception  is 
tendered?  I  have  seen  nothing  like  it  since  I 
came  here." 

"  Is  it  possible  you  do  not  know ?  " 

My  informant  gave  a  name  which  indeed 
was  not  unfamiliar  to  me;  it  was  that  of  a 
woman  who  had  united  to  extreme  beauty  of 
private  character,  and  a  high  type  of  faith  in 
invisible  truths,  life-long  devotion  to  an  unpop- 
ular philanthropy.  She  had  never  been  called 
a  "great"  woman  on  earth.  Her  influence 
had  not  been  large.     Her  cause  had  never  been 


144  BEYOND    THE  GATES. 

the  fashion,  while  she  herself  was  living.  So- 
ciety had  never  amused  itself  by  adopting  her, 
even  to  the  extent  of  a  parlor  lecture.  Her 
name,  so  far  as  it  was  familiar  to  the  public  at 
all,  had  been  the  synonym  of  a  poor  zealot,  a 
plain  fanatic,  to  be  tolerated  for  her  conscien- 
tiousness and  —  avoided  for  her  earnestness. 
Since  her  death,  the  humane  consecration  which 
she  represented  had  marched  on  like  a  con- 
quering army  over  her  gi-ave.  Earth,  of  which 
she  was  not  worthy,  had  known  her  too  late. 
Heaven  was  proud  to  do  honor  to  the  spiritual 
foresight  and  sustained  self-denial,  as  royal 
as  it  was  rare. 

I  remember,  also,  being  deeply  touched  by  a 
sight  upon  which  I  chanced,  one  morning,  when 
I  was  strolling  about  the  suburbs  of  the  city, 
seeking  the  refreshment  of  solitude  before  the 
duties  of  the  day  began.  For,  while  I  was 
thus  engaged,  I  met  our  Master,  suddenly. 
He  was  busily  occupied  with  others,  and,  be- 
yond the  deep  recognition  of  His  smile,  I  had 
no  converse  with  Him.  He  was  followed  at 
a  little  distance,  as  He  was  apt  to  be,  by  a 
group  of  playing  children ;   but   He  was  in 


BEYOND   THE  GATES.  145 

close  communion  with  two  whom  I  saw  to  be 
souls  newly-arrived  from  the  lower  life.  One 
of  these  was  a  man  —  I  should  say  he  had  been 
a  rough  man,  and  had  come  out  of  a  rude  life 
—  who  conversed  with  Him  eagerly  but  rever- 
ently, as  they  walked  on  towards  the  town. 
Upon  the  other  side,  our  Lord  held  with  His 
own  hand  the  hand  of  a  timid,  trembling 
woman,  who  scarcely  dared  raise  her  eyes  from 
the  ground  ;  now  and  then  she  drew  His  gar- 
ment's edge  furtively  to  her  lips,  and  let  it  fall 
again,  with  the  slow  motion  of  one  who  is  in  a 
dream  of  ecstasy.  These  two  people,  I  judged, 
had  no  connection  with  each  other  beyond  the 
fact  that  they  were  simultaneous  new-comers  to 
the  new  country,  and  had,  perhaps,  both  borne 
with  them  either  special  need  or  merit,  I  could 
hardly  decide  which.  I  took  occasion  to  ask  a 
neighbor,  an  old  resident  of  the  citj^  and  wise 
in  its  mysteries,  what  he  supposed  to  be  the 
explanation  of  the  scene  before  us,  and  why 
these  two  were  so  distinguished  by  the  favor 
of  Him  whose  least  glance  made  holiday  in  the 
soul  of  any  one  of  us.  It  was  then  explained 
10 


146  BEYOND  THE  GATES. 

to  me,  that  the  man  about  whom  I  had  in- 
quired was  the  hero  of  a  great  calamity,  with 
which  the  lower  world  was  at  present  occupied. 
One  of  the  most  frightful  railway  accidents  of 
this  generation  had  been  averted,  and  the  lives 
of  four  hundred  helpless  passengers  saved,  by 
the  sublime  sacrifice  of  this  locomotive  engineer, 
who  died  (it  will  be  remembered)  a  death  of 
voluntary  and  unique  torture  to  save  his  train. 
All  that  could  be  said  of  the  tragedy  was  that 
it  held  the  essence  of  self-sacrifice  in  a  form 
seldom  attained  by  man.  At  the  moment  I 
saw  this  noble  fellow,  he  had  so  immediately 
come  among  us  that  the  expression  of  physical 
agony  had  hardly  yet  died  out  of  his  face,  and 
his  eye  still  blazed  with  the  lire  of  his  tremen- 
dous deed. 

"  But  who  is  the  woman  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  She  was  a  delicate  creature  —  sick  —  died 
of  the  fright  and  shock ;  the  only  passenger 
on  the  train  who  did  not  escape." 

I  inquired  why  she  too  was  thus  preferred ; 
what  glorious  deed  had  she  done,  to  make  her 
so  dear  to  the  Divine  Heart  ? 


BEYOND    THE   GATES.  147 

"She?  Ah,  she,"  said  mj informant,  "was 
only  one  of  the  household  saints.  She  had 
been  notable  among  celestial  observers  for 
many  years.  You  know  the  type  I  mean  — 
shy,  silent  —  never  thinks  of  herself,  scarcely 
knows  she  has  a  self  —  toils,  drudges,  endures, 
prays  ;  expects  nothing  of  her  friends,  and 
gives  all ;  hopes  for  little,  even  from  her  Lord, 
but  surrenders  everything ;  full  of  religious 
ideals,  not  all  of  them  theoretically  wise,  but 
practically  noble  ;  a  woman  ready  to  be  cut  to 
inch  pieces  for  her  faith  in  an  invisible  Love 
that  has  never  apparently  given  her  anything 
in  particular.  Oh,  you  know  the  kind  of  wo- 
man :  has  never  had  anything  of  her  own,  in 
all  her  life  —  not  even  her  own  room  —  and 
a  whole  family  adore  her  without  knowing  it, 
and  lean  upon  her  like  infants  without  seeing 
it.  We  have  been  watching  for  this  woman's 
coming.  We  knew  there  would  be  an  especial 
greeting  for  her.  But  nobody  thought  of  her 
accompanying  the  engineer.  Come !  Shall  we 
not  f oUow,  and  see  how  they  will  be  received  ? 
If  I  am  not  mistaken,  it  will  be  a  great  day  in 
the  city." 


XI. 

Among  the  inquiries  that  must  be  raised  by 
my  fragmentary  recital,  I  am  only  too  keenly 
aware  of  the  difficulty  of  answering  one  which 
I  do  not  see  my  way  altogether  to  ignore.  I 
refer  to  that  affecting  the  domestic  relations  of 
the  eternal  world. 

It  will  be  readily  seen  that  I  might  not  be 
permitted  to  share  much  of  the  results  of  my 
observation  in  this  direction,  with  earthly  curi- 
osity, or  even  earthly  anxiety.  It  is  not'%vith- 
out  thought  and  prayer  for  close  guidance  that 
I  suffer  myself  to  say,  in  as  few  words  as  pos- 
sible, that  I  found  the  unions  which  go  to  form 
heavenly  homes  so  different  from  the  marriage 
relations  of  earth,  in  their  laws  of  selection 
and  government,  that  I  quickly  understood  the 
meaning  of  our  Lord's  few  revealed  words  as  to 
that  matter ;  while  yet  I  do  not  find  myself  at 
liberty  to  explain  either  the  words  or  the  facts. 


BEYOND  THE  GATES.  149 

I  tliink  I  cannot  be  wrong  in  adding,  that  in 
a  niunber  of  cases,  so  great  as  to  astonish  me, 
the  marriages  of  earth  had  no  historic  effect 
upon  the  ties  of  Heaven.  Laws  of  affiliation 
uniting  soul  to  soul  in  a  relation  infinitely 
closer  than  a  bond,  and  more  permanent  than 
any  whicli  the  average  human  experience  would 
lead  to  if  it  were  socially  a  free  agent,  controlled 
the  attractions  of  this  pure  and  hapj^y  life,  in 
a  manner  of  which  I  can  only  say  that  it  must 
remain  a  mystery  to  the  earthly  imagination. 
I  have  intimated  that  in  some  cases  the  choices 
of  time  were  so  blessed  as  to  become  the 
choices  of  Eternity.  I  may  say,  that  if  I  found 
it  lawful  to  utter  the  impidse  of  my  soul,  I 
should  cry  throughout  the  breadth  of  the  earth 
a  warning  to  the  lightness,  or  the  haste,  or  the 
presumption,  or  the  mistake  that  chose  to  love 
for  one  world,  when  it  might  have  loved  for 
two. 

For,  let  me  say  most  solemnly,  that  the  rela- 
tions made  between  man  and  woman  on  earth 
I  found  to  be,  in  importance  to  the  individual, 
second  to  nothing  in  the  range  of  human  ex- 


150  BEYOND  THE  GATES. 

perience,  save  the  adjustment  of  the  soul  to 
the  Personality  of  God  Himself. 

If  I  say  that  I  found  earthly  marriage  to 
have  been  a  temporary  expedient  for  preserv- 
ing the  form  of  the  eternal  fact ;  that  freedom 
in  this  as  in  all  other  things  became  in  Heaven 
the  highest  law ;  that  the  great  sea  of  human 
misery,  swelled  by  the  passion  of  love  on  earth, 
shall  evaporate  to  the  last  drop  in  the  blaze  of 
bliss  to  which  no  human  counterpart  can  ap- 
proach any  nearer  than  a  shadow  to  the  sun, — 
I  may  be  understood  by  those  for  whose  sake 
alone  it  is  worth  while  to  allude  to  this  mys- 
tery at  all ;  for  the  rest  it  matters  little. 

Perhaps  I  should  say,  once  for  all,  that  every 
form  of  pure  pleasure  or  happiness  which  had 
existed  upon  the  earth  had  existed  as  a  type  of 
a  greater.  Our  divinest  hours  below  had  been 
scarcely  more  than  suggestions  of  their  coun- 
terparts above.  I  do  not  expect  to  be  under- 
stood. It  must  only  be  remembered  that,  in 
aU  instances,  the  celestial  life  develops  the  soul 
of  a  thing.  When  I  speak  of  eating  and 
drinking,  for  instance,  I  do  not  mean  that  we 


BEYOND   THE  GATES.  151 

cooked  and  prepared  our  food  as  we  do  below. 
The  elements  of  nutrition  continued  to  exist 
for  us  as  they  had  in  the  earth,  the  air,  the 
water,  though  they  were  available  without 
drudgery  or  anxiety.  Yet  I  mean  distinctly 
that  the  sense  of  taste  remained,  that  it  was 
gratified  at  need,  that  it  was  a  finer  one  and 
gave  a  keener  pleasure  tlian  its  coarser  proto- 
type below.  I  mean  that  the  soul  of  a  sense 
is  a  more  exquisite  thing  than  what  we  may 
call  the  body  of  the  sense,  as  developed  to 
earthly  consciousness. 

So  far  from  there  being  any  diminution  in 
the  number  or  power  of  the  senses  in  the  spir- 
itual life,  I  found  not  only  an  acuter  intensity 
in  those  which  we  already  possessed,  but  that 
the  effect  of  our  new  conditions  was  to  create 
others  of  whose  character  we  had  never 
dreamed.  To  be  sure,  wise  men  had  forecast 
the  possibility  of  this  fact,  differing  among 
themselves  even  as  to  the  accepted  classifica- 
tion of  what  they  had,  as  Scaliger  who  called 
speech  the  sixth  sense,  or  our  English  contem- 
Ijorary  who  included  heat  and  force  in  his  list 


152  BEYOND   THE  GATES. 

(also  of  six)  ;  or  more  imaginative  men  who 
had  admitted  the  conceivability  of  inconceiv- 
able powers  in  an  order  of  being  beyond  the 
human.  Knowing  a  little  of  these  speculations, 
I  was  not  so  much  surprised  at  the  facts  as 
overwhelmed  by  their  extent  and  variety.  Yet 
if  I  try  to  explain  thsm,  I  am  met  by  an  al- 
most insurmountable  obstacle. 

It  is  well  known  that  missionaries  are  often 
thwarted  in  their  religious  labors  by  the  ab- 
sence in  savage  tongues  of  any  words  corre- 
sponding to  certain  ideas  such  as  that  of  purity 
or  unselfishness.  Philologists  have  told  us  of 
one  African  tribe  in  whose  language  exist  six 
different  words  descriptive  of  murder;  none 
whatever  expressive  of  love.  In  another  no 
such  word  as  gratitude  can  be  found.  Per- 
haps no  illustration  can  better  serve  to  indicate 
the  impediments  which  bar  the  way  to  my  de- 
scribing to  beings  who  possess  but  five  senses 
and  their  corresponding  imaginative  culture, 
the  habits  or  enjoyments  consequent  upon  the 
development  of  ten  senses  or  fifteen.  I  am 
allowed  to  say  as  much  as  this  :  that  the  growth 


BEYOND  THE  GATES.  153 

of  these  celestial  powers  was  variable  with  ia- 
dividuals  throughout  the  higher  world,  or  so 
much  of  it  as  I  became  acquainted  with.  It 
will  be  readily  seen  what  an  illimitable  scope 
for  anticipation  or  achievement  is  given  to 
daily  life  by  such  an  evolution  of  the  nature. 
It  should  be  carefully  remembered  that  this 
serves  only  as  a  single  instance  of  the  exuber- 
ance of  what  we  call  everlasting  life. 

Below,  I  remember  that  I  used  sometimes 
to  doubt  the  possibility  of  one's  being  happy 
forever  under  any  conditions,  and  had  moods 
in  which  I  used  to  question  the  value  of  end- 
less existence.  I  wish  most  earnestly  to  say, 
that  before  I  had  been  in  Heaven  days,  Eter- 
nity did  not  seem  long  enough  to  make  room 
for  the  growth  of  character,  the  growth  of 
mind,  the  variety  of  enjoyment  and  employ- 
ment, and  the  increase  of  usefulness  that  prac- 
tically constituted  immortality. 

It  could  not  have  been  long  after  my  arrival 
at  my  father's  house  that  he  took  me  with  him 
to  the  great  music  hall  of  our  city.  It  was 
my  first  attendance  at  any  one  of  the  publio 


154  BEYOND   THE  GATES. 

festivals  of  these  happy  people,  and  one  long 
to  be  treasured  in  thought.  It  was,  in  fact, 
nothing  less  than  the  occasion  of  a  visit  by 
Beethoven,  and  the  performance  of  a  new  ora- 
torio of  his  own,  which  he  conducted  in  per- 
son. Long  before 'th6  opening  hour  the  streets 
of  the  city  were  thronged.  People  with  holi- 
day expressions  poured  in  from  the  country. 
It  was  a  gala-day  with  all  the  young  folks  es- 
pecially, much  as  such  matters  go  below.  A 
beautiful  thing  which  I  noticed  was  the  ab- 
sence of  all  personal  insistence  in  the  crowd. 
The  weakest,  or  the  saddest,  or  the  most  timid, 
or  those  who,  for  any  reason,  had  the  more 
need  of  this  great  pleasure,  were  selected  by 
their  neighbors  and  urged  on  into  the  more  de- 
sirable positions.  The  music  hall,  so-called, 
was  situated  upon  a  hill  just  outside  the  town, 
and  consisted  of  an  immense  roof  supported 
by  rose-colored  marble  pillars.  There  were 
no  walls  to  the  building,  so  that  there  was  the 
effect  of  being  no  limit  to  the  audience,  which 
extended  past  the  line  of  luxuriously  covered 
seats  provided  for  them,  upon  the  grass,  and 


BEYOND  THE  GATES.  155 

even  into  the  streets  leading  to  the  city.  So 
perfect  wei'c  what  we  should  call  below  the 
telephonic  arrangement  of  the  community,  that 
those  who  remained  in  their  own  homes  or  pur- 
sued their  usual  avocations  were  not  deprived 
of  the  music.  My  impressions  are  that  every 
person  in  the  city,  who  desired  to  put  himself 
in  communication  with  it,  heard  the  oratorio ; 
but  I  am  not  familiar  with  the  system  by 
which  this  was  effected.  It  involved  a  high 
advance  in  the  study  of  acoustics,  and  was  one 
of  the  things  which  I  noted  to  be  studied  at  a 
wiser  time. 

Many  distinguished  persons  known  to  you 
below,  were  present,  some  from  our  own  neigh- 
borhood, and  others  guests  of  the  city.  It 
was  delightful  to  observe  the  absence  of  all 
jealousy  or  narrow  criticism  among  themselves, 
and  also  the  reverence  with  which  their  supe- 
riority was  regarded  by  the  less  gifted.  Every 
good  or  great  thing  seemed  to  be  so  heartily 
shared  with  every  being  capable  of  sharing 
it,  and  all  personal  gifts  to  become  material 
for  such  universal  pride,  that  one  experienced 


156  BEYOND   THE  GATES. 

a  kind  of  transport  at  the  elevation  of  the 
public  character. 

I  remembered  how  it  used  to  be  below,  when 
I  was  present  at  some  musical  festival  in  the 
familiar  hall  where  the  bronze  statue  of  Bee- 
thoven, behind  the  sea  of  sound,  stood  calmly. 
How  he  towered  above  our  poor  unfinished 
story  !  As  we  grouped  there,  sitting  each  iso- 
lated with  his  own  thirst,  brought  to  be  slaked 
or  excited  by  the  flood  of  music;  drinking 
down  into  our  frivolity  or  our  desjiair  the  out- 
let of  that  mighty  life,  it  used  to  seem  to  me 
that  I  heard,  far  above  the  passion  of  the  or- 
chestra, his  own  high  words,  —  his  own  music 
made  articulate,  —  ^^Jffo  to  meet  Death  with 

Joy" 

When  there  came  upon  the  people  in  that 
heavenly  audience-room  a  stir,  like  the  rustling 
of  a  dead  leaf  upon  crusted  snow  ;  when  the 
stir  grew  to  a  solemn  murmur  ;  when  the  mur- 
mur ran  into  a  lofty  cry  ;  when  I  saw  that  the 
orchestra,  the  chorus,  and  the  audience  had 
risen  like  one  breathless  man,  and  knew  that 
Beethoven  stood  before  us,  the  light  of  day 


BEYOND  THE  GATES.  157 

darkened  for  that  instant  before  me.  The 
prelude  was  well  under  way,  I  think,  before  I 
dared  lift  my  eyes  to  his  face. 

The  great  tide  swept  me  on.     When  upon/ 
earth  had  he  created  sound  like  this  ?     Where 
upon  earth  had  we  heard  its  like  ?     There  he  / 
is,  one  listening  nerve  from  head  to  foot,  he 
who  used  to  stand  deaf  in  the  middle  of  his  ; 
own  orchestra  —  desolate  no  more,  denied  no 
more  forever,  all  the  heavenly  senses  possible  i 
to  Beethoven  awake  to  the  last  delicate  re- 
sponse; all  the  solemn  faith  in  the  invisible,  \ 
in  the  holy,  which  he  had  made  his  own,  tri- 
umphant now ;   all  the  powers  of  his  mighty  1 
nature  in  action  like  a  rising  storm  —  there 
stands  Beethoven  immortally  alive. 

What  knew  we  of  music,  I  say,  who  heard 
its  earthly  prototype  ?  It  was  but  the  tuning 
of  the  instruments  before  the  eternal  orches- 
tra shall  sound.  Soul!  swing  yourself  free 
upon  this  miglity  current.  Of  what  will  Bee- 
thoven tell  us  whom  he  dashes  on  like  drops  ? 

As  the  paean  rises,  I  bow  my  life  to  under- 
stand.    What  would  he  with  us  whom  God 


158  BEYOND   THE   GATES. 

chose  to  make  Beethoven  everlastingly  ?  "What 
is  the  burden  of  this  master's  message,  given 
now  in  Pleaven,  as  once  on  earth  ?  Do  we 
hear  aright  ?     Do  we  read  the  score  correctly  ? 

"  Holy  —  holy  "  — 

A  chorus  of  angel  voices,  trained  since  the 
time  when  morning  stars  sang  together  with 
the  sons  of  God,  take  up  the  words : 

"  Holy,  holy,  holy  is  the  Lord." 

When  the  oratorio  has  ended,  and  we  glide 
out,  each  hushed  as  a  hidden  thought,  to  his 
own  ways,  I  stay  beneath  a  linden -ti*ee  to 
gather  breath.  A  fine  sound,  faint  as  the 
music  of  a  dream,  strikes  my  ringing  ears, 
,and,  looking  up,  I  see  that  the  leaf  above  my 
head  is  singing.  Has  it,  too,  been  one  of  the 
great  chorus  yonder  ?  Did  he  command  the 
forces  of  nature,  as  he  did  the  seraphs  of 
Heaven,  or  the  powers  of  earth  ? 

The  strain  falls  away  slowly  from  the  lips  of 
1  the  leaf : 

("Holy,  holy,  holy,"  —  ' 
;  It  trembles,  and  is  stilLi 


xn. 

That  which  it  is  permitted  me  to  relate  to 
you  moves  on  swiftly  before  the  thoughts,  like 
the  compression  in  the  last  act  of  a  drama. 
The  next  scene  which  starts  from  the  various- 
ness  of  heavenly  delight  I  find  to  be  the  Sym- 
phony of  Color. 

There  was  a  time  in  the  history  of  art,  below, 
when  this,  and  similar  phrase/,  had  acquired 
almost  a  slang  significance,  owing  to  the  affec- 
tation of  their  use  by  the  shallow.  I  was, 
therefore,  the  more  surprised  at  meeting  a  fact 
so  lofty  behind  the  guise  of  the  familiar  words ; 
and  noted  it  as  but  one  of  many  instances 
in  which  the  earthly  had  deteriorated  from  the 
ideals  of  the  celestial  life. 

It  seemed  that  the  development  of  color  had 
reached  a  point  never  conceived  of  below,  and 
that  the  treatment  of  it  constituted  an  art  by 
itself.   ,By  this  I  do  not  mean  its  treatment 


160  BEYOND    THE  GATES. 

under  the  form  of  painting,  decoration,  dress, 
or  any  embodiment  whatever.  What  we  were 
called  to  witness  was  an  exhibition  of  color, 
pure  and  simple. 

This  occasion,  of  which  I  especially  speak, 
was  controlled  by  great  colorists,  some  of 
earthly,  some  of  heavenly  renown.  Not  all 
of  them  were  artists  in  the  accepted  sense  of 
designers  ;  among  them  were  one  or  two  select 
creatures  in  whom  the  passion  of  color  had 
been  remarkable,  but,  so  far  as  the  lower  world 
was  concerned,  for  the  great  part  inactive,  for 
want  of  any  scientific  means  of  expression. 

We  have  all  known  the  color  natures,  and, 
if  we  have  had  a  fine  sympathy,  have  compas- 
sionated them  as  much  as  any  uj)on  earth, 
whether  they  were  found  among  the  disap- 
pointed disciples  of  Art  itself,  or  hidden  away 
in  plain  homes,  where  the  paucity  of  existence 
held  all  the  delicacy  and  the  dream  of  life  close 
prisoners. 

4.mong  the  managers  of  this  Symphony  I 
should  say  that  I  observed,  at  a  distance,  the 
form  of  Kaphael.     I  heard  it  rumored  that 


BEYOND  THE  GATES.       *  161 

Leonardo  was  present,  but  I  did  not  see  him. 
There  was  another  celebrated  artist  enraofed 
in  the  work,  whose  name  I  am  not  allowed 
to  give.  It  was  an  unusual  occasion,  and 
had  attracted  attention  at  a  distance.  The 
Symphony  did  not  take  place  in  our  own  city, 
but  in  an  adjacent  town,  to  which  our  citizens, 
as  well  as  those  of  other  places,  repaired  in 
great  numbers.  We  sat,  I  remember,  in  a  lux- 
urious coliseum,  closely  darkened.  The  build- 
ing was  circular  in  form ;  it  was  indeed  a  per- 
fect globe,  in  whose  centre,  without  touching 
anywhere  the  superficies,  we  were  seated.  Air 
without  light  entered  freely,  I  know  not  how, 
and  fanned  our  faces  perpetually.  Distant 
music  appealed  to  the  ear,  without  engaging  it. 
Pleasures,  which  we  could  receive  or  dismiss 
at  will,  wandered  by,  and  were  assimilated  by 
those  extra  senses  which  I  have  no  means  of 
describing.  Whatever  could  be  done  to  put 
soul  and  body  in  a  state  of  ease  so  perfect  as 
to  admit  of  complete  receptivity,  and  in  a  mood 
so  high  as  to  induce  the  loftiest  interpretation 

of  the  purely  aesthetic  entertainment  before  us, 
11 


162  '       BEYOND  THE  GATES. 

was  done  in  the  amazing  manner  characteris- 
tic of  this  country.  I  do  not  know  that  I  had 
ever  felt  so  keenly  as  on  this  occasion  the  de- 
light taken  by  God  in  providing  happiness  for 
the  children  of  His  discipline  and  love.  We 
had  suffered  so  much,  some  of  us,  below,  that 
it  did  not  seem  natural,  at  first,  to  accept  sheer 
pleasure  as  an  end  in  and  of  itself.  But  I 
learned  that  this,  like  many  other  fables  in 
Heaven,  had  no  moral.  Live  !  Be !  Do ! 
Be  glad !  Because  He  lives,  ye  live  also. 
Grow !  Gain !  Achieve  !  Hope  !  That  is 
to  glorify  Him  and  enjoy  Him  forever.  Hav- 
ing fought  —  rest.  Having  trusted  —  know. 
Having  endured  —  enjoy.  Being  safe  —  ven- 
ture. Being  pure  —  fear  not  to  be  sensitive. 
Being  in  harmony  with  the  Soid  of  all  delights 
—  dare  to  indulge  thine  own  soul  to  the  brim 
therein.  Having  acquired  holiness — thou  hast 
no  longer  any  broken  law  to  fear.  Dare  to 
be  happy.  This  was  the  spirit  of  daily  life 
among  us.  "  Nothing  was  required  of  us  but 
to  be  natural,"  as  I  have  said  before.  And  it 
"  was  natural  to  be  right,"  thank  God,  at  last. 


BEYOND   THE  GATES.  163 

Being  a  new-comer,  and  still  so  unlearned,  I 
could  not  understand  the  Color  Symphony  as 
many  of  the  spectators  did,  while  yet  I  enjoyed 
it  intensely,  as  an  untaught  musical  organiza- 
tion may  enjoy  the  most  complicated  composi- 
tion. I  think  it  was  one  of  the  most  stimu- 
lating sights  I  ever  saw,  and  my  ambition  to 
master  this  new  art  flashed  fire  at  once. 

Slowly,  as  we  sat  silent,  at  the  centre  of  that 
great  white  globe  —  it  was  built  of  porphyry,  I 
think,  or  some  similar  substance  — there  began 
to  breathe  upon  the  surface  pure  light.  This 
trembled  and  deepened,  till  we  were  enclosed 
in  a  sphere  of  white  fire.  This  I  perceived,  to 
scholars  in  the  science  of  color,  signified  dis- 
tinct thought,  as  a  grand  chord  does  to  the  mu- 
sician. Thus  it  was  with  the  hundred  effects 
which  followed.  White  light  quivered  into 
pale  blue.  Blue  struggled  with  violet.  Gold 
and  orange  parted.  Green  and  gray  and  crim- 
son glided  on.  Rose  —  the  living  rose  — 
blushed  upon  us,  and  faltered  under  —  over 
—  yonder,  till  we  were  shut  into  a  world  of 
it,  palpitating.     It  was  as  if  we  had  gone 


164  BEYOND   THE  GATES. 

behind  the  soul  of  a  woman's  blush,  or  the 
meaning  of  a  sunrise.  Whoever  has  known 
the  passion  for  that  color  will  understand  why 
some  of  the  spectators  were  with  difficulty  re-, 
strained  from  flinging  themselves  down  into  it, 
as  into  a  sea  of  rapture. 

There  were  others  more  affected  by  the  pur- 
ple, and  even  by  the  scarlet ;  some,  again,  by 
the  delicate  tints  in  which  was  the  color  of  the 
sun,  and  by  colors  which  were  hints  rather 
than  expressions.  Marvelous  mollifications  of 
rays  set  in.  They  had  their  laws,  their  chords, 
their  harmonies,  their  scales ;  they  carried  their 
melodies  and  "  execution  ; "  they  had  themes 
and  ornamentation.  Each  combination  had 
its  meaning.  The  trained  eye  received  it,  as 
the  trained  ear  receives  orchestra  or  oratory. 
The  senses  melted,  but  the  intellect  was  astir. 
A  perfect  composition  of  color  unto  color  was 
before  us,  exquisite  in  detail,  magnificent  in 
mass.  Now  it  seemed  as  if  we  ourselves,  sit- 
ting there  ensphered  in  color,  flew  around  the 
globe  with  the  quivering  rays.  Now  as  if  we 
sank  into  endless  sleep  with  reposing  tints ; 


BEYOND   THE  GATES.  165 

now  as  if  we  drank  of  color;  then  as  if  we 
dreamed  it ;  now  as  if  we  felt  it  —  clasped  it ;  I 
then  as  if  we  heard  it.  We  were  taken  into  [ 
the  heart  of  it ;  into  the  mystery  of  the  June 
sky,  and  the  grass -blade,  the  blue -bell,  the 
child's  cheek,  the  cloud  at  sunset,  the  snow- 
drift at  twilight.  The  apple-blossom  told  us 
its  secret,  and  the  down  on  the  pigeon's  neck, 
and  the  plume  of  the  rose -curlew,  and  the 
robin's -egg,  and  the  hair  of  blonde  women, 
and  the  scarlet  passion-flower,  and  the  mist 
over  everglades,  and  the  power  of  a  dark  eye. 
It  may  be  remembered  that  I  have  alluded 
once  to  the  rainbow  which  I  saw  soon  after 
reaching  the  new  life,  and  that  I  raised  a  ques- 
tion at  the  time  as  to  the  number  of  rays  ex- 
hibited in  the  celestial  prism.  As  I  watched 
the  Symphony,  I  became  convinced  that  the 
variety  of  colors  unquestionably  far  exceeded 
those  with  which  we  were  familiar  on  earth. 
The  Indian  occidtists  indeed  had  long  urged 
that  they  saw  fourteen  tints  in  the  prism ;  this 
was  the  dream  of  the  mystic,  who,  by  a  tre- 
mendous system  o^  education,  claims  to  have 


166  BEYOND  THE  GATES. 

subjected  the  body  to  tlie  soul,  so  that  the  or- 
dinary laws  of  nature  yield  to  his  control. 
Physicists  had  also  taught  us  that  the  laws  of 
optics  involved  the  necessity  of  other  colors 
beyond  those  whose  rays  were  admissible  by 
our  present  vision  ;  this  was  the  assertion  of 
that  science  which  is  indebted  more  largely 
to  the  imagination  than  the  worshiper  of  the 
Fact  has  yet  arisen  from  his  prone  posture 
high  enough  to  see. 

Now,  indeed,  I  had  the  truth  before  me. 
Colors  which  no  artist's  palette,  no  poet's  rap- 
ture knew,  played  upon  optic  nerves  exqui- 
sitely trained  to  receive  such  effects,  and  were 
appropriated  by  other  senses  empowered  to 
share  them  in  a  manner  which  human  lan- 
guage suj)plies  me  with  no  verb  or  adjective 
to  express. 

As  we  journeyed  home  after  the  Symphony, 
I  was  surprised  to  find  how  calming  had  been 
the  effect  of  its  intense  excitement.  Without 
fever  of  pulse  or  rebel  fancy  or  wearied  nerve, 
I  looked  about  upon  the  peaceful  country.  I 
felt  ready  for  any  duty.  I  was  strong  for  all 
deprivation.     I  longed  to  live  more  purely.    I 


BEYOND   THE  GATES.  167 

prayed  to  live  more  unselfishly.  I  greatly 
wished  to  share  the  pleasure,  with  which  I  had 
been  blessed,  with  some  denied  soul.  I  thought 
of  uneducated  people,  and  coarse  people,  who 
had  yet  to  be  trained  to  so  many  of  the  high- 
est varieties  of  happiness.  I  thought  of  sick'' 
people,  all  their  earthly  lives  invalids,  recently 
dead,  and  now  free  to  live.  I  wished  that  I 
had  sought  some  of  these  out,  and  taken  them 
with  me  to  the  Symphony. 

It  was  a  rare  evening,  even  in  the  blessed 
land.  I  enjoyed  the  change  of  scene  as  I  used 
to  do  in  traveling,  below.  It  was  delightful  to 
look  abroad  and  see  everywhere  prosperity  and 
peace.  The  children  were  shouting  and  tum- 
bling in  the  fields.  Young  people  strolled 
laughing  by  twos  or  in  groups.  The  vigorous 
men  and  women  busied  themselves  or  rested  at 
the  doors  of  cosy  homes.  The  ineffable  land- 
scape of  hiU  and  water  stretched  on  behind  the 
human  foreground.  Nowhere  a  chill  or  a  blot ; 
nowhere  a  tear  or  a  scowl,  a  deformity,  a  disa- 
bility, or  an  evil  passion.  There  was  no  flaw 
in  the  picture.     There  was  no  error  in  the  fact. 


168  BEYOND  THE  GATES. 

I  felt  that  I  was  among  a  perfectly  happy  peo- 
ple.    I  said,  "  I  am  in  a  holy  world." 

The  next  day  was  a  Holy  Day  ;  we  of  the 
earth  still  called  it  the  Sabbath,  from  long 
habit.  I  remember  an  especial  excitement  on 
that  Holy  Day  following  the  Color  Symphony, 
inasmuch  as  we  assembled  to  be  instructed  by 
one  whom,  above  all  other  men  that  had  ever 
lived  on  earth,  I  should  have  taken  most  trouble 
to  hear.  This  was  no  other  than  St.  John  the 
Apostle. 

I  remember  that  we  held  the  service  in  the 
open  air,  in  the  fields  beyond  the  city,  for 
"  there  was  no  Temple  therein."  The  Beloved 
Disciple  stood  above  us,  on  the  rising  ground. 
It  would  be  impossible  to  forget,  but  it  is  well- 
nigh  impossible  to  describe,  the  appearance  of 
the  preacher.  I  think  he  had  the  most  sensi- 
tive face  I  ever  saw  in  any  man ;  yet  his  dig- 
nity was  unapproachable.  He  had  a  ringing 
voice  of  remarkable  sweetness,  and  great  power 
of  address.  He  seemed  more  divested  of  him- 
self than  any  orator  I  had  heard.  He  poured 
his  personality  out  upon  us,  like  one  of  the 


BEYOND   THE   GATES.  169 

forces   of   nature,  as  largely,  and   as   uncon- 
sciously. 

He  taught  us  much.  He  reasoned  of  mys- 
teries over  which  we  had  pored  helplessly  all 
our  lives  below.  He  explained  intricate  points 
in  the  plan  of  human  life.  He  touched  upon 
the  perplexities  of  religious  faith.  He  cast  a 
great  light  backward  over  the  long,  dim  way 
by  which  we  had  crept  to  our  present  blessed- 
ness. He  spoke  to  us  of  our  deadliest  doubts. 
He  confirmed  for  us  our  patient  belief.  He 
made  us  ashamed  of  our  distrust  and  our  rest- 
lessness. He  left  us  eager  for  faith.  He  gave 
vigor  to  our  spiritual  ideals.  He  spoke  to  us 
of  the  love  of  God,  as  the  light  speaks  of  the 
sun.  He  revealed  to  us  how  we  had  misun- 
derstood Him.  Our  souls  cried  out  within  us, 
as  we  remembered  our  errors.  We  gathered 
ourselves  like  soldiers  as  we  knew  our  possibil- 
ities. We  swayed  in  his  hands  as  the  bough 
sways  in  the  wind.  Each  man  looked  at  his 
neighbor  as  one  whose  eyes  ask :  "  Have  I 
wronged  thee  ?  Let  me  atone."  "  Can  I  serve 
thee  ?     Show  me  how."     All  our  spiritual  life 


170  BEYOND   TEE  GATES. 

arose  like  an  athlete,  to  exercise  itself;  we 
sought  hard  ta,sks ;  we  aspired  for  far  prizes ; 
we  turned  to  our  daily  lives  like  new-created 
beings ;  so  truly  we  had  kept  Holy  Day.  When 
the  discourse  was  over,  there  followed  an  an- 
them sung  by  a  choir  of  child-angels  hover- 
ing in  mid-air  above  the  preacher,  and  beau- 
tiful exceedingly  to  the  sight  and  to  the  ear. 
"  God,"  they  sang,  "  is  Love  —  is  Love  —  is 
Love."  In  the  refrain  we  joined  with  our 
own  awed  voices. 

The  chant  died  away.  All  the  air  of  all  the 
worlds  was  still.  The  beloved  Disciple  raised 
his  hand  in  solemn  signal.  A  majestic  Form 
glided  to  his  side.  To  whom  should  the  fish- 
erman of  Galilee  turn  with  a  look  like  that  f 
Oh,  grace  of  God !  what  a  smile  was  there ! 
The  Master  and  Disciple  stand  together ;  they 
rise  above  us.  See !  He  falls  upon  his  knees 
before  that  Other.  So  we  also,  sinking  to  our 
own,  hide  our  very  faces  from  the  sight. 

Our  Lord  steps  forth,  and  stands  alone.  To 
us  in  glory,  as  to  them  of  old  in  sorrow.  He  is 
the  God  made  manifest.     We  do  not  lift  our 


BEYOND    THE  GATES.  171 

bowed  heads,  but  we  feel  that  He  has  raised 
His  pierced  hands  above  us,  and  that  His  own 
lips  call  down  the  Benediction  of  His  Father 
upon  our  eternal  lives 


Xlll. 

Mt  father  had  been  absent  from  home  a 
great  deal,  taking  journeys  with  whose  object 
he  did  not  acquaint  me.  I  myself  had  not  vis- 
ited the  earth  for  some  time ;  I  cannot  say  how 
long.  I  do  not  find  it  possible  to  divide  heav- 
enly time  by  an  earthly  calendar,  and  cannot 
even  decide  how  much  of  an  interval,  by  human 
estimates,  had  been  indeed  covered  by  my  resi- 
dence in  the  Happy  Country,  as  described  upon 
these  pages. 

My  duties  had  called  me  in  other  directions, 
and  I  had  been  exceedingly  busy.  My  father 
sometimes  spoke  of  our  dear  hearts  at  home, 
and  reported  them  as  all  well ;  but  he  was  not 
communicative  about  them.  I  observed  that 
he  took  more  pains  than  usual,  or  I  should  say 
more  pleasure  than  usual,  in  the  little  domes- 
tic cares  of  our  heavenly  home.  Never  had  it 
been  in  more  perfect  condition.     The  garden 


BEYOND    THE  GATES.  173 

and  the  grounds  were  looking  exquisitely.  All 
the  trifling  comforts  or  ornaments  of  the  house 
were  to  his  mind.  We  talked  of  them  much, 
and  wandered  about  in  our  leisure  moments,  al- 
tering or  approving  details.  I  did  my  best  to 
make  him  happy,  but  my  own  heart  told  me 
how  lonely  he  must  be  despite  me.  We  talked 
less  of  her  coming  than  we  used  to  do.  I  felt 
that  he  had  accepted  the  separation  with  the 
unquestioning  spirit  which  one  gains  so  deeply 
in  Heaven ;  and  that  he  was  content,  as  one 
who  trusted,  still  to  wait. 

One  evening,  I  came  home  slowly  and  alone. 
My  father  had  been  away  for  some  days.  I 
had  been  passing  several  hours  with  some 
friends,  who,  with  myself,  had  been  greatly  irf- 
terested  in  an  event  of  public  importance.  A 
messenger  was  needed  to  carry  certain  tidings 
to  a  great  astronomer,  known  to  us  of  old  on 
earth,  who  was  at  that  time  busied  in  research 
in  a  distant  planet.  It  was  a  desirable  em- 
bassy, and  many  sought  the  opportunity  for 
travel  and  culture  which  it  gave.  After  some 
delay  in  the  appointment,  it  was  given  to  a 


174  BEYOND    THE  GATES. 

person  but  just  arrived  from  below :  a  woman 
not  two  days  dead.  /  This  surprised  me  till  I 
had  inquired  into  the  circumstances,  when  I 
learned  that  the  new-comer  had  been  on  earth 
an  extreme  sufferer,  bed-ridden  for  forty  years. 
Much  of  this  time  she  had  been  unable  even 
to  look  out  of  doors.  The  airs  of  Heaven  had 
been  shut  from  her  darkened  chamber.  For 
years  she  had  not  been  able  to  sustain  conver- 
sation with  her  own  friends,  except  on  rare 
occasions.  Possessed  of  a  fine  mind,  she  had 
been  unable  to  read,  or  even  to  bear  the  hu- 
man voice  in  reading.  Acute  pain  had  tor- 
tured her  days.  Sleeplessness  had  made  hor- 
ror of  her  nights.  She  was  poor.  She  was 
dependent.  She  was  of  a  refined  organization. 
She  was  of  a  high  spirit,  and  of  energetic  tem- 
perament. Medical  science,  holding  out  no 
cure,  assured  her  that  she  might  live  to  old 
age.  She  lived.  When  she  was  seventy-six 
years  old,  death  remembered  her.  This  woman 
had  sometimes  been  inquired  of,  touching  her 
faith  in  that  Mystery  which  we  call  God.  I 
was  told  that  she  gave  but  one  answer;  be- 


BEYOND   THE  GATES.  175 

yond  tliis,  revealing  no  more  of  experience  than 
the  grave  itself,  to  which,  more  than  to  any- 
other  simile,  her  life  could  be  likened. 

"  Though  He  slay  me,"  she  said,  "  I  will 
trust." 

"  But,  do  you  never  doubt  ?  " 

"  I  will  trust."  j 

To  this  rare  spirit,  set  free  at  last  and  re- 
embodied,  the  commission  of  which  I  have 
spoken  was  delegated ;  no  one  in  all  the  city 
grudged  her  its  coveted  advantages.  A  mighty 
shout  rose  in  the  public  ways  when  the  selec- 
tion was  made  known.  I  should  have  thought 
she  might  become  delirious  with  the  sudden 
access  of  her  freedom,  but  it  was  said  that  she 
received  her  fortune  quietly,  and,  slipping  out 
of  sight,  was  away  upon  her  errand  before  we 
saw  her  face. 

The  incident  struck  me  as  a  most  impres- 
sive one,  and  I  was  occupied  with  it,  as  I 
walked  home  thoughtfully.  Indeed,  I  was  so 
absorbed  that  I  went  with  my  eyes  cast  down, 
and  scarcely  noticed  when  I  had  reached  our 
own  home.     I  did  not  glance  at  the  house,  but 


176  BEYOND    THE  GATES. ^ 

continued  my  way  up  the  winding  walk  be- 
tween the  trees,  still  drowned  in  my  reverie. 

It  was  a  most  peaceful  evening.  I  felt 
about  me  the  fine  light  at  which  I  did  not 
look  ;  that  evening  glow  was  one  of  the  new 
colors,  —  one  of  the  heavenly  colors  that  I  find 
it  impossible  to  depict.  The  dog  came  to  meet 
me  as  usual;  he  seemed  keenly  excited,  and 
would  have  hurried  me  into  the  house.  I 
patted  him  absently  as  I  strolled  on. 

Entering  the  house  with  a  little  of  the  sense 
of  loss  which,  even  in  the  Happy  World,  ac- 
companies the  absence  of  those  we  love,  and 
wondering  when  my  father  woidd  be  once 
more  with  me,  I  was  startled  at  hearing  his 
voice  —  no,  voices  ;  there  were  two  ;  they  came 
from  an  upper  chamber,  and  the  silent  house 
echoed  gently  with  their  subdued  words. 

I  stood  for  a  moment  listening  below  ;  I 
felt  the  color  flash  out  of  my  face ;  my  heart 
stood  still.  I  took  a  step  or  two  forward  — 
hesitated — advanced  with  something  like  fear. 
The  dog  pushed  before  me,  and  urged  me  to 
follow.  After  a  moment's  thought  I  did  so, 
resolutely. 


BEYOND   THE  GATES.  177 

The  doors  stood  open  everywhere,  and  the 
evening  air  blew  in  with  a  strong  and  whole- 
some force.  No  one  had  heard  me.  Guided 
by  the  voices  of  the  unseen  speakers  I  hurried 
on,  across  the  hall,  through  my  own  room,  and 
into  that  sacred  spot  I  have  spoken  of,  wherein 
for  so  many  solitary  years  my  dear  father  had 
made  ready  for  her  coming  who  was  the  joy  of 
his  joy,  in  Heaven,  as  she  had  been  on  earth. 

For  that  instant,  I  saw  aU  the  familiar  de- 
tails of  the  room  In  a  blur  of  light.  It  was 
as  if  a  sea  of  glory  filled  the  place.  Across  it, 
out  beyond  the  window,  on  the  balcony  which 
overlooked  the  hill-country  and  the  sea,  stood 
my  father  and  my  mother,  hand  in  hand. 

She  did  not  hear  me,  even  yet.  They  were 
talking  quietly,  and  were  absorbed.  Uncer- 
tain what  to  do,  I  might  even  have  turned  and 
left  them  undisturbed,  so  sacred  seemed  that 
hour  of  theirs  to  me ;  so  separate  in  all  the 
range  of  experience  in  either  world,  or  any 
life.  But  her  heart  warned  her,  and  she 
stirred,  and  so  saw  me  —  my  dear  mother  — 
come  to  us,  at  last. 

Vi 


178  BEYOND    THE  GATES. 

Oh,  what  arms  can  gather  like  a  mother's, 
'iwhether  in  earth  or  Heaven?  Whose  else 
could  be  those  brooding  touches,  those  raining 
tears,  those  half-inarticulate  maternal  words  ? 
And  for  her,  too,  the  bitterness  is  passed,  the 
blessedness  begun.  Oh,  my  dear  mother  !  My 
dear  mother !  I  thank  God  I  was  the  child 
appointed  to  give  you  welcome  —  thus.  .  .  . 

"  And  how  is  it  with  Tom,  —  poor  Tom  !  " 

"  He  has  grown  such  a  fine  fellow ;  you  can- 
not think.  I  leaned  upon  him.  He  was  the 
comfort  of  my  old  age." 

"  Poor  Tom  !  " 

"  And  promises  to  make  such  a  man,  dear  1 
A  good  boy.  No  bad  habits,  yet.  Your  father 
is  so  pleased  that  he  makes  a  scholar." 

"Dear  Tom!     AndAHce?" 

"  It  was  hard  to  leave  Alice.  But  she  is 
young.     Life  is  before  her.     God  is  good." 

"  And  you,  my  dearest,  was  it  hard  for  you 
at  the  last  ?  Was  it  a  long  sickness  ?  Who 
took  care  of  you  ?  Mother !  did  you  suffer 
much  f  " 


BEYOND    THE  GATES.  179 

"  Dear,  I  never  suffered  any.  I  had  a  sud- 
den stroke  I  tlaink.  I  was  sitting  by  the  fire 
with  the  children.  It  was  vacation  and  Tom 
was  at  home.  They  were  all  at  home.  I 
started  to  cross  the  room,  and  it  grew  dark. 
I  did  not  know  that  I  was  dead  till  I  found 
I  was  standing  there  upon  the  balcony,  in  your 
father's  arms." 

"  I  had  to  tell  her  what  had  happened. 
She  would  n't  believe  me  at  the  first." 

"  Were  you  with  her  all  the  time  below  ?  " 
"  All  the  time  ;  for  days  before  the  end. " 
"  And  you  brought  her  here  yourself,  eas- 
ily?" 

"  All  the  way,  myself.  She  slept  like  a 
baby,  and  wakened  —  as  she  says." 


XIV. 

But  was  it  possible  to  feel  desolate  in  Heav- 
en ?  Life  now  filled  to  the  horizon.  Our  bus- 
iness, our  studies,  and  our  pleasures  occupied 
every  moment.  Every  day  new  expedients  of 
delight  unfurled  before  us.  Our  conceptions 
of  happiness  increased  faster  than  their  reali- 
zation. The  imagination  itself  grew,  as  much 
as  the  aspiration.  We  saw  height  beyond 
height  of  joy,  as  we  saw  outline  above  out- 
line of  duty.  How  paltry  looked  our  wildest 
earthly  dream !  How  small  our  largest  worldly 
deed !  One  would  not  have  thought  it  possi- 
ble that  one  could  even  want  so  much  as  one 
demanded  here ;  or  hope  so  far  as  one  ex- 
pected now. 

What  possibilities  stretched  on  ;  each  leading 
to  a  larger,  like  newly-discovered  stars,  one  be- 
yond another ;  as  the  pleasure  or  the  achieve- 
ment took  its  place,  the  capacity  for  the  next 


BEYOND    THE  GATES.  181 

increased.  Satiety  or  its  synonyms  passed  out 
of  our  language,  except  as  a  reminiscence  of 
the  past.  See,  what  were  the  conditions  of  this 
eternal  problem.  Given  :  a  pure  heart,  perfect 
health,  unlimited  opportunity  for  usefulness, 
infinite  chance  of  culture,  home,  friendship, 
love  ;  the  elimination  from  practical  life  of 
anxiety  and  separation ;  and  the  intense  spirit- 
ual stimulus  of  the  presence  of  our  dear  Mas- 
ter, through  whom  we  approached  the  mystery 
of  God  —  how  incredible  to  anything  short  of 
experience  the  sum  of  happiness ! 
J  I  soon  learned  how  large  a  part  of  our  de- 
light consisted  in  anticipation ;  since  now  we 
iknew  anticipation  without  alloy  of  fear.  I 
^thought  much  of  the  joys  in  store  for  me, 
which  yet  I  was  not  perfected  enough  to  attain. 
I  looked  onward  to  the  perpetual  meeting  of 
'  old  friends  and  acquaintances,  both  of  the  liv- 
ing and  the  dead  ;  to  the  command  of  unknown 
languages,  arts,  and  sciences,  and  knowledges 
manifold ;  to  the  grandeur  of  helping  the 
weak,  and  revering  the  strong  ;  to  the  privilege 
of  guarding  the  erring  or  the  tried,  whether  of 


182  BEYOND    THE   GATES. 

earth  or  heaven,  and  of  sharing  all  attainable 
wisdom  with  the  less  wise,  and  of  even  instruct- 
ing those  too  ignorant  to  know  that  they  were 
not  wise,  and  of  ministering  to  the  dying,  and 
of  assisting  in  bringing  together  the  separated. 
I  looked  forward  to  meeting  select  natures,  the 
distinguished  of  eartli  or  Heaven  ;  to  reading 
history  backward  by  contact  with  its  actors, 
and  settling  its  knotty  points  by  their  eviden- 
tial testimony.  Was  I  not  in  a  world  where 
Loyola,  and  Jeanne  d'Arc,  or  Luther,  or  Ar- 
thur, could  be  asked  questions  ? 

I  would  follow  the  experiments  of  great 
discoverers,  since  their  advent  to  this  place. 
What  did  Newton,  and  Columbus,  and  Darwin 
in  the  eternal  life  ? 

I  would  keep  pace  with  the  development  of 
art.  To  what  standard  had  Michael  Angelo 
been  raising  the  public  taste  all  these  years  ? 

I  would  join  the  fragments  of  those  private 
histories  which  had  long  been  matter  of  public 
interest.  Where,  and  whose  now,  was  Vittoria 
Colonna? 

I  woxdd  have  the  finales  of  the  old  Sacred 


BEYOND   THE  GATES.  183 

stories.  What  use  had  been  made  of  the  im- 
petuosity of  Peter?  What  was  the  private 
life  of  Saint  John  ?  With  what  was  the  fine 
intellect  of  Paul  now  occupied?  What  was 
the  charm  in  the  Magdalene  ?  In  what  sacred 
fields  did  the  sweet  nature  of  Ruth  go  glean- 
ing? Did  David  write  the  new  anthems  for 
the  celestial  chorals  ?  What  was  the  attitude 
of  Moses  towards  the  Persistence  of  Force  ? 
Where  was  Judas?  And  did  the  Betrayed 
plead  for  the  betrayer  ? 

I  would  study  the  sociology  of  this  explan- 
atory life.  Where,  if  anywhere,  were  the 
Cave-men?  In  what  world,  and  under  what 
educators,  were  the  immortal  souls  of  Laps  and 
Bushmen  trained  ?  What  social  position  had 
the  early  Christian  martyrs  ?  What  became  of 
Caligula,  whose  nurse,  we  were  told.,  smeared 
her  breasts  with  blood,  and  so  developed  the 
world-hated  tyrant  from  the  outraged  infant  ? 
Where  was  Buddha,  "  the  Man  who  knew  "  ? 
What  affectionate  relation  subsisted  between 
him  and  the  Man  who  Loved  ? 

I  would  bide  my  time  patiently,  but  I,  too. 


184  BEYOND    THE  GATES. 

would  become  an  experienced  traveler  through 
the  spheres.  Our  Sun  I  would  visit,  and  scar- 
let Mars,  said  by  our  astronomers  below  to  be 
the  planet  most  likely  to  contain  inhabitants. 
The  colored  suns  I  would  observe,  and  the 
nebulse,  and  the  mysteries  of  space,  powerless 
now  to  chill  one  by  its  reputed  temperature, 
said  to  be  forever  at  zero.  Where  were  the 
Alps  of  Heaven  ?  The  Niagara  of  celestial 
scenery  ?  The  tropics  of  the  spiritual  world  ? 
Ah,  how  I  should  pursue  Eternity  with  ques- 
tions ! 

What  was  the  relation  of  mechanical  power 
to  celestial  conditions  ?  What  use  was  made 
of  Watts  and  Stevenson  ? 

What  occupied  the  ex  -  hod  -  carriers  and 
cooks  ? 

Where  were  all  the  songs  of  all  the  poets  ? 
In  the  eternal  accumulation  of  knowledge,  what 
proportion  sifted  through  the  strainers  of  spir- 
itual criticism  ?  What  were  the  standards  of 
spiritual  criticism?  What  became  of  those 
creations  of  the  human  intellect  which  had  ac- 
quired immortality  ?      Were   there   instances 


BEYOND    THE  GATES.  185 

where  these  figments  of  fancy  had  achieved  an 
eternal  existence  lost  by  their  own  creators? 
Might  not  one  of  the  possible  mysteries  of  our 
new  state  of  existence  be  the  fact  of  a  world 
peopled  by  the  great  creatures  of  our  imagina- 
tion known  to  us  below  ?    And  might  not  one  of 
our  pleasures  consist  in  visiting  such  a  world  ? 
Was  it   incredible  that  Helen,  and  Lancelot, 
and  Sigf  ried,  and  Juliet,  and  Faust,  and  Dinah 
Morris,    and  the  Lady  of  Shalott,   and   Doq 
Quixote,    and    Colonel  Newcome,    and    Sat 
Weller,  and  Uncle  Tom,  and  Hester  Prynn 
and    Jean  Valjean    existed?    could    be    ap 
proached  by  way  of  holiday,  as  one  used  to  taki 
up  the  drama  or  the  fiction,  on  a  leisure  hour, 
down  below  ? 

Already,  though  so  short  a  time  had  I  been 
in  the  upper  life,  my  imagination  was  over- 
whelmed with  the  sense  of  its  possibilities. 
They  seemed  to  overlap  one  another  like  the 
molecides  of  gold  in  a  ring,  without  visible 
juncture  or  practical  end.  I  was  ready  for 
the  inconceivable  itself.  In  how  many  worlds 
should  I  experience  myself  ?     How  many  lives 


186  BEYOND   THE  GATES. 

should  I  live  ?  Did  eternal  existence  mean 
eternal  variety  of  growth,  suspension,  renewal  ? 
Might  youth  and  maturity  succeed  each  other 
exquisitely  ?  Might  individual  life  reproduce 
itself  from  seed,  to  flower,  to  fruit,  like  a  plant, 
through  the  cycles  ?  Would  childhood  or  age 
be  a  matter  of  personal  choice  ?  Would  the 
affectional  or  the  mtellectual  temperaments  at 
will  succeed  each  other  ?  Might  one  try  the 
domestic  or  the  public  career  in  different  ex- 
istences ?  Try  the  bliss  of  love  in  one  age,  the 
culture  of  solitude  in  another  ?  Be  oneseK  yet 
be  all  selves  ?  Experience  all  glories,  all  dis- 
cipline, all  knowledge,  all  hope?  Know  the 
ecstasy  of  assured  union  with  the  one  creature 
chosen  out  of  time  and  Eternity  to  comple- 
ment the  soul?  And  yet  forever  pursue  the 
unattainable  with  the  rapture  and  the  reverence 
of  newly-awakened  and  still  ungratified  feel- 
ing? 

Ah  me  I  was  it  possible  to  feel  desolate  even 
in  Heaven? 

I  think  it  may  be,  because  I  had  been  much 
occupied  with  thoughts  like  these ;  or  it  may 


BEYOND   THE  GATES.  187 

be  that,  since  my  dear  mother's  coming,  I  had 
been,  naturally,  thrown  more  by  myself  in  my 
desire  to  leave  those  two  uninterrupted  in  their 
first  reunion  —  but  I  must  admit  that  I  had 
lonely  moments,  when  I  realized  that  Heaven 
had  yet  failed  to  provide  me  with  a  home  of 
my  own,  and  that  the  most  loving  filial  posi-j 
tion  could  not  satisfy  the  nature  of  a  mature  I 
man  or  woman  in  any  world.  I  must  admit 
that  I  began  to  be  again  subject  to  retrospects 
and  sadnesses  which  had  been  well  brushed 
away  from  my  heart  since  my  advent  to  this 
place.  I  must  admit  that  in  experiencing  the 
immortality  of  being,  I  found  that  I  experi- 
enced no  less  the  immortality  of  love. 

Had  I  to  meet  that  old  conflict  here  ?  I 
never  asked  for  everlasting  life.  Will  He  im- 
pose it,  and  not  free  me  from  that  f  God  for- 
give me !  Have  I  evil  in  my  heart  still  ?  Can 
one  sin  in  Heaven?  Nay,  be  merciful,  be  mer- 
ciful !  I  will  be  patient.  I  will  have  trust. 
But  the  old  nerves  are  not  dead.  The  old 
ache  has  survived  the  grave. 

Why  was  this  permitted,  if  without  a  cure  ? 


188  BEYOND   THE  GATES. 

Why  had  death  no  power  to  call  decay  upon 
that  for  which  eternal  life  seemed  to  have  pro- 
vided no  health?  It  had  seemed  to  me,  so 
far  as  I  could  observe  the  heavenly  society, 
that  only  the  fortunate  affections  of  preexist- 
ence  survived.  The  unhappy,  as  well  as  the 
imperfect,  were  outlived  and  replaced.  Mys- 
teries had  presented  themselves  here,  which  I 
was  not  yet  wise  enough  to  clear  up.  I  saw, 
however,  that  a  great  ideal  was  one  thing  which 
never  died.  The  attempt  to  realize  it  often  in- 
volved effects  which  seemed  hardly  less  than 
miraculous. 

But  for  myseK,  events  had  brought  no  solu- 
tion of  the  problems  of  my  past ;  and  with  the 
tenacity  of  a  constant  nature  I  was  unable  to 
see  any  for  the  future. 

I  mused  one  evening,  alone  with  these  long 
thoughts.  I  was  strolling  upon  a  wide,  bright 
field.  Behind  me  lay  the  city,  glittering  and 
glad.  Beyond,  I  saw  the  little  sea  which  I  had 
crossed.  The  familiar  outline  of  the  hills  up- 
rose behind.  All  Heaven  seemed  heavenly.  I 
heard  distant  merry  voices  and  music.     Listen- 


BEYOND   THE   GATES.  189 

ing  closely,  I  found  that  the  Wedding  March 
that  had  stirred  so  many  human  heart-beats 
was  perfectly  performed  somewhere  across  the 
water,  and  that  the  wind  bore  the  sounds  to- 
wards me.  I  then  remembered  to  have  heard 
it  said  that  Mendelssohn  was  himself  a  guest  of 
some  distinguished  person  in  an  adjacent  town, 
and  that  certain  music  of  his  was  to  be  given 
for  the  entertainment  of  a  group  of  people  who 
had  been  deaf-mutes  in  the  lower  life. 

As  the  immortal  power  of  the  old  music 
filled  the  air,  I  stayed  my  steps  to  listen.  The 
better  to  do  this,  I  covered  my  eyes  with  my 
hands,  and  so  stood  blindfold  and  alone  in  the 
midst  of  the  wide  field. 

The  passion  of  earth  and  the  purity  of 
Heaven  —  the  passion  of  Heaven  and  the  de- 
ferred hope  of  earth — what  loss  and  what  pos- 
session were  in  the  throbbing  strains  ! 

As  never  on  earth,  they  called  the  glad  to 
rapture.  As  never  on  earth,  they  stirred  the 
sad  to  silence.  Where,  before,  had  soul  or 
sense  been  called  by  such  a  clarion?  What 
music  was,  we  used  to  dream.  What  it  is,  we 
dare,  at  last,  to  know. 


190  BEYOND  THE  GATES. 

And  yet  —  I  would  have  been  spared  this 
if  I  could,  I  think,  just  now.  Give  me  a  mo- 
ment's grace.  I  would  draw  breath,  and  so 
move  on  again,  and  turn  me  to  my  next  duty 
quietly,  since  even  Heaven  denies  me,  after 
all. 

I  would  —  what  would  I  ?  Where  am  I  ? 
Who  spoke,  or  stirred  ?  Who  called  me  by 
a  name  unheard  by  me  of  any  living  lip  for 
almost  twenty  years  ? 

In  a  transport  of  something  not  unlike  ter- 
ror, I  could  not  remove  my  hands  from  my 
eyes,  but  stiU  stood,  blinded  and  dumb,  in 
the  middle  of  the  shining  field.  Beneath  my 
clasped  fingers,  I  caught  the  radiance  of  the 
edges  of  the  blades  of  grass  that  the  low  breeze 
swept  against  my  garment's  hem ;  and  strangely 
in  that  strange  moment,  there  came  to  me,  for 
the  only  articulate  thought  I  could  command, 
these  two  lines  of  an  old  hymn : 

"  Sweet  fields  beyond  the  swelling  flood 
Stand  dressed  in  living  green." 

"  Take  down  your  hands,"  a  voice  said 
quietly.     "  Do  not   start  or  fear.     It  is  the 


BEYOND   THE  GATES.  191 

most  natural  thing  in  the  world  that  I  should 
find  you.  Be  calm.  Take  courage.  Look  at 
me." 

Obeying,  as  the  tide  obeys  the  moon,  I  gath- 
ered heart,  and  so,  lifting  my  eyes,  I  saw  him 
whom  I  remembered  standing  close  beside  me. 
We  two  were  alone  in  the  wide,  bright  field. 
All  Heaven  seemed  to  have  withdrawn  to  leave 
us  to  ourselves  for  this  one  moment. 

I  had  known  that  I  might  have  loved  him, 
all  my  life.  I  had  never  loved  any  other  man. 
I  had  not  seen  him  for  almost  twenty  years. 
As  our  eyes  met,  our  souls  challenged  one  an- 
other in  silence,  and  in  strength.  I  was  the 
first  to  speak : 

"  Where  is  she  ?  '* 

"  Not  with  me." 

"When  did  you  die?" 

"Years  ago," 

"  I  had  lost  all  trace  of  you." 

"  It  was  better  so,  for  all  concerned." 

"  Is  she  —  is  she  "  — 

"  She  is  on  earth,  and  of  it ;  she  has  found 
comfort  long  since  ;  another  fills  my  place.  I 
do  not  grieve  to  yield  it.     Come !  " 


192  BEYOND    THE  GATES. 

"  But  I  have  thought  —  for  all  these  years  — 
it  was  not  right  —  I  put  the  thought  away  — 
I  do  not  understand  "  — 

"  Oh,  come !  I,  too,  have  waited  twenty 
years." 

"  But  is  there  no  reason  —  no  barrier  —  are 

you  sure  ?     God  help  me !     You  have  turned 

Heaven  into  Hell  for  me,  if  this  is  not  right." 

"  Did  I  ever  ask  you  to  give  me  one  pitjdng 

thought  that  was  not  right  ?  " 

"  Never,  God  knows.  Never.  You  helped 
me  to  be  right,  to  be  noble.  You  were  the 
noblest  man  I  ever  knew.  I  was  a  better 
woman  for  having  known  you,  though  we 
parted  —  as  we  did." 

"  Then  do  you  trust  me  ?     Come  !  " 
"  I  trust  you  as  I  do  the  angels  of  God." 
"  And  I  love  you  as  His  angels  may.  Come ! " 
"  For  how  long  —  am  I  to  come  ?  " 
"  Are  we  not  in  Eternity  ?     I  claim  you  as 
I  have  loved  you,  without  limit  and  without 
end.     Sold  of  my  immortal  soul !     Life  of  my 
eternal  life !  —  Ah,  come." 


XV. 

And  yet  so  subtle  is  the  connection  in  the 
eternal  life  between  the  soul's  best  moments 
and  the  Source  of  them,  that  I  felt  unready 
for  my  joy  until  it  had  His  blessing  whose  Love 
was  the  sun  of  all  love,  and  whose  approval 
was  sweeter  than  all  happiness. 

Now,  it  was  a  part  of  that  beautifid  order  of 
Heaven,  which  we  ceased  to  call  accident,  that 
while  I  had  this  wish  upon  my  lips,  we  saw 
Him  coming  to  us,  where  we  still  stood  alone 
together  in  the  open  field. 

We  did  not  hasten  to  meet  Him,  but  re- 
mained as  we  were  until  He  reached  our  side  ; 
and  then  we  sank  upon  our  knees  before  Him, 
silently.  God  knows  what  gain  we  had  for 
the  life  that  we  had  lost  below.  The  pure  eyes 
of  the  Master  sought  us  with  a  benignity  from 
which  we  thanked  the  Infinite  Mercy  that  our 
own  had  not  need  to  droop  ashamed.     What 

13 


194  BEYOND   THE  GATES. 

weak,  earthly  comfort  could  have  been  worth 
the  loss  of  a  moment  such  as  this  ?  He  blesses 
us.  With  His  sacred  hands  He  blesses  us,  and 
by  His  blessing  lifts  our  human  love  into  so  di- 
vine a  thing  that  this  seems  the  only  life  in 
which  it  could  have  breathed. 

By-and-by,  when  our  Lord  has  left  us,  we 
join  hands  like  children,  and  walk  quietly 
through  the  dazzling  air,  across  the  field,  and 
up  the  hill,  and  up  the  road,  and  home.  I 
seek  my  mother,  trembling,  and  clasp  her, 
sinking  on  my  knees,  until  I  hide  my  face 
upon  her  lap.  Her  hands  stray  across  my  hair 
and  cheek. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Mary?  —  dear  Mary ! " 

"  Oh,  Mother,  I  have  Heaven  in  my  hej^ 
at  last ! " 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it,  my  poor  child.  Hush  I 
There,  there  I  my  dear  1 " 

"  Your  poor  child  ?  .  .  .  Mother  I  What 
can  you  mean  ?  "  — 

What  can  she  mean,  indeed  ?    I  turn  and 


BEYOND   THE  GATES.  195 

gaze  into  her  eyes.  My  face  was  hidden  in 
her  lap.  Her  hands  stray  across  my  hair  and 
cheek. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Mary  ?  —  dear 
Mary  I " 

"  Oh,  Mother,  I  have  Heaven  in  my  heart 
at  last  1 " 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it,  my  poor  child.  Hush  I 
There,  there  I  my  dear  1 " 

'•'•  Your  poor  child?  Mother!  WhatCKS 
this  mean  ?  " 

She  broods  and  blesses  me,  she  calms  and 
gathers  me.  With  a  mighty  cry,  I  fling  my- 
self against  her  heart,  and  sob  my  soul  out, 
there. 

"You  are  better,  child,"  she  says.  "Be 
quiet.     You  will  live." 

Upon  the  edge  of  the  sick-bed,  sitting  strained 
and  weary,  she  leans  to  comfort  me.  The 
night-lamp  burns  dimly  on  the  floor  behind  the 
door.  The  great  red  chair  stands  with  my 
white  woollen  wrapper  thrown  across  the  arm. 
In  the  window  the  magenta  geranimn  droops 


196  BEYOND   THE  GATES. 

freezing.  Mignonette  is  on  tlie  table,  and  its 
breatli  pervades  the  air.  Upon  the  wall,  the 
cross,  the  Christ,  and  the  picture  of  my  father 
look  down. 

The  doctor  is  in  the  room ;  I  hear  him  say 
that  he  shall  change  the  medicine,  and  some 
one,  I  do  not  notice  who,  whispers  that  it  is 
thirty  hours  since  the  stupor,  from  which  I 
have  aroused,  began.  Alice  comes  in,  and 
Tom,  I  see,  has  taken  Mother's  place,  and  holds 
me  —  dear  Tom  !  —  and  asks  me  if  I  suffer, 
and  why  I  look  so  disappointed. 

Without,  in  the  frosty  morning,  the  factory- 
bells  are  calling  the  poor  girls  to  their  work. 
The  shutter  is  ajar,  and  through  the  crack  I 
see  the  winter  day  dawn  on  the  world. 


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